Lord Alfred Tennyson

And ye talk together still,
In the language wherewith Spring
Letters cowslips on the hill.

And ye talk together still,
In the language wherewith Spring
Letters cowslips on the hill.

O Blackbird! sing me something well:
While all the neighbors shoot thee round,
I keep smooth plats read more

O Blackbird! sing me something well:
While all the neighbors shoot thee round,
I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground,
Where thou may'st warble, eat and dwell.

Mariana in the moated grange.

Mariana in the moated grange.

A life of nothing's nothing worth,
From that first nothing ere his birth,
To that last nothing read more

A life of nothing's nothing worth,
From that first nothing ere his birth,
To that last nothing under earth.

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, read more

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.