Maxioms by 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 oft I heard the tender dove
In firry woodlands making moan.
And oft I heard the tender dove
In firry woodlands making moan.
He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel
force,
Something better than his dog, read more
He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel
force,
Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.
And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.
The great world's altar stairs
That slope through darkness up to God.
The great world's altar stairs
That slope through darkness up to God.
