Lord Alfred Tennyson

Then the face of night is fair in the dewy downs
And the shining daffodil dies.

Then the face of night is fair in the dewy downs
And the shining daffodil dies.

And lives to clutch the golden keys,
To mould a mighty state's decrees,
And shape the whisper read more

And lives to clutch the golden keys,
To mould a mighty state's decrees,
And shape the whisper of the throne.

I held it truth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men read more

I held it truth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men may rise on stepping stones
Or their dead selves to higher things.

Give place to your superiors.

Give place to your superiors.

Broad-based upon her people's will,
And compassed by the inviolate sea.

Broad-based upon her people's will,
And compassed by the inviolate sea.