Tennyson's Complete Works: (Including Queen Mary)R.Worthington, 1876 |
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7 ÆäÀÌÁö
... maiden past away , Ere the placid lips be cold ? Wherefore those faint smiles of thine , Spiritual Adeline ? III . What hope or fear or joy is thine ? Who talketh with thee , Adeline ? For sure thou art not all alone : Do beating hearts ...
... maiden past away , Ere the placid lips be cold ? Wherefore those faint smiles of thine , Spiritual Adeline ? III . What hope or fear or joy is thine ? Who talketh with thee , Adeline ? For sure thou art not all alone : Do beating hearts ...
8 ÆäÀÌÁö
... maiden robes Sunn'd by those orient skies ; But round about the circles of the globes Of her keen eyes . And in her raiment's hem was traced in flame WISDOM , a name to shake All evil dreams of power - a sacred name . And when she spake ...
... maiden robes Sunn'd by those orient skies ; But round about the circles of the globes Of her keen eyes . And in her raiment's hem was traced in flame WISDOM , a name to shake All evil dreams of power - a sacred name . And when she spake ...
27 ÆäÀÌÁö
... maiden in her flower Is worth a hundred coats of - arms . Lady Clara Vere de Vere , Some meeker pupil you must find , For were you queen of all that is , I could not stoop to such a mind . You sought to prove how I could love , And my ...
... maiden in her flower Is worth a hundred coats of - arms . Lady Clara Vere de Vere , Some meeker pupil you must find , For were you queen of all that is , I could not stoop to such a mind . You sought to prove how I could love , And my ...
34 ÆäÀÌÁö
... maiden splendours of the morning star Shook in the stedfast blue . Enormous elmtree - boles dit stoop and lean Upon the dusky brushwood underneath Their broad curved branches , fledged with ( clearest green , New from its silken sheath ...
... maiden splendours of the morning star Shook in the stedfast blue . Enormous elmtree - boles dit stoop and lean Upon the dusky brushwood underneath Their broad curved branches , fledged with ( clearest green , New from its silken sheath ...
36 ÆäÀÌÁö
... maiden pure ; as when she went along From Mizpeh's tower'd gate with welcome light , With timbrel and with song . | Feeding the flower ; but ere my flower to fruit Changed , I was ripe for death . " My God , my land , my father - these ...
... maiden pure ; as when she went along From Mizpeh's tower'd gate with welcome light , With timbrel and with song . | Feeding the flower ; but ere my flower to fruit Changed , I was ripe for death . " My God , my land , my father - these ...
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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.