Tennyson's Complete Works: (Including Queen Mary)R.Worthington, 1876 |
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21 ÆäÀÌÁö
... call'd me from the cleft : Far up the solitary morning smote The streaks of virgin snow . With down- ( dropt eyes I sat alone : white - breasted like a star Fronting the dawn he moved : a leopard skin Droop'd from his shoulder , but his ...
... call'd me from the cleft : Far up the solitary morning smote The streaks of virgin snow . With down- ( dropt eyes I sat alone : white - breasted like a star Fronting the dawn he moved : a leopard skin Droop'd from his shoulder , but his ...
45 ÆäÀÌÁö
... call'd him by his name , complaining ( loud , And dropping bitter tears against his brow Striped with dark blood : for all his face was ( white And colourless , and like the wither'd moon Smothe by the fresh beam of the springing ( east ...
... call'd him by his name , complaining ( loud , And dropping bitter tears against his brow Striped with dark blood : for all his face was ( white And colourless , and like the wither'd moon Smothe by the fresh beam of the springing ( east ...
48 ÆäÀÌÁö
... Call'd to me from the years to come , and ( such A length of bright horizon rimm'd the dark . And all that night I heard the watchman ( peal The sliding season : all that night I heard The heavy clocks knolling the drowsy hours . The ...
... Call'd to me from the years to come , and ( such A length of bright horizon rimm'd the dark . And all that night I heard the watchman ( peal The sliding season : all that night I heard The heavy clocks knolling the drowsy hours . The ...
49 ÆäÀÌÁö
... call'd his son , and said , . , My son : I married late , but I would wish to see My grandchild on my knees before I die : And I have set my heart upon a match . Now therefore look to Dora ; she is well To look to ; thrifty too beyond ...
... call'd his son , and said , . , My son : I married late , but I would wish to see My grandchild on my knees before I die : And I have set my heart upon a match . Now therefore look to Dora ; she is well To look to ; thrifty too beyond ...
54 ÆäÀÌÁö
... call'd him Crichton , for he His own ( seem'd ¡ª All - perfect , finish'd to the finger nail . And once I ask'd him of his early life , And his first passion ; and he answer'd me : And well his words became him : was he not A full - cell ...
... call'd him Crichton , for he His own ( seem'd ¡ª All - perfect , finish'd to the finger nail . And once I ask'd him of his early life , And his first passion ; and he answer'd me : And well his words became him : was he not A full - cell ...
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answer'd arms Arthur ask'd blood breast breath Caerleon call'd Camelot child court cried Dagonet dark dead dear death dream Dubric earth Eliz Enid ev'n evermore Excalibur eyes face fair father fear fire flower follow'd fool Gareth Gawain Geraint golden grace Guinevere hall hand happy hast hate hath head hear heard heart heaven holy horse hour jousts King King Arthur kiss kiss'd knew Lady Lady of Shalott land Lavaine light Limours live look look'd Lord maid maiden Mary Merlin moon morn mother move never night noble o'er once Oriana Philip Prince Queen rode rose round seem'd shadow shame Sir Bedivere Sir Lancelot Sir Pelleas sleep smile song soul Spain spake speak star stept stood sweet tears thee thine things thought thro tower turn'd vext voice wild wind Wyatt
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86 ÆäÀÌÁö - BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay ! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill ; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead...
360 ÆäÀÌÁö - Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
156 ÆäÀÌÁö - And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
120 ÆäÀÌÁö - OH yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be...
61 ÆäÀÌÁö - Myself not least, but honoured of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.
42 ÆäÀÌÁö - And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard: " My end draws nigh ; 'tis time that I were gone. Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight, And bear me to the margin ; yet I fear My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die.
41 ÆäÀÌÁö - And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock, Came on the shining levels of the lake. There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt...
62 ÆäÀÌÁö - Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho...
103 ÆäÀÌÁö - I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges. Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
41 ÆäÀÌÁö - Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings, Some one might show it at a joust of arms, Saying, 'King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps Upon the hidden bases of the hills.