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Há 3 dias · Perchance. Thou art but of those fables which engage. And hold the minds of men in giddy trance. Yet, be it so, and be it all romance, The thought of thine existence is so bright. With beautiful imaginings--the glance. Upon thy fancied being such delight, That I will deem thee Truth, so lovely is thy might! Alfred Lord Tennyson.
Há 4 dias · The Beggar Maid. Before the king Cophetua. 'She is more beautiful than day.'. One her dark hair and lovesome mien. In all that land had never been. 'This beggar maid shall be my queen !'. Her arms across her breast she laid; She was more fair than words can say; Barefooted came the beggar maid Before the king Cophetua.
Há 6 dias · The Silent Voices. When the dumb Hour, clothed in black, Brings the Dreams about my bed, Call me not so often back, Silent Voices of the dead, Toward the lowland ways behind me, And the sunlight that is gone! Call me rather, silent voices, Forward to the starry track.
Há 3 dias · Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth. But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'T is better to have loved and lost. Than never to have loved at all. Alfred Lord Tennyson.
27 de mai. de 2024 · See, there is hardly a daisy. 'Here again, here, here, here, happy year'! O warble unchidden, unbidden! And all the winters are hidden. 'Summer is coming, summer is coming. I know it, I know it, I know it. Light again, leaf again, life again, love again,' Yes, my wild little Poet. Sing t.
Há 3 dias · To H.r.h. Princess Beatrice. Two Suns of Love make day of human life, Which else with all its pains, and griefs, and deaths, Were utter darkness--one, the Sun of dawn. That brightens thro' the Mother's tender eyes, And warms the child's awakening world --and one. The later-rising Sun of spousal Love, Which from her household orbit draws the child.
26 de mai. de 2024 · Morte D'arthur. So all day long the noise of battle roll'd. Among the mountains by the winter sea; Until King Arthur's table, man by man, Had fallen in Lyonnesse about their Lord, King Arthur: then, because his wound was deep, The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights, And bore him to a chapel nigh the field,
