Lord Alfred Tennyson

Seeming genial, venial fault.

Seeming genial, venial fault.

I give not gold for mere expectations.

I give not gold for mere expectations.

Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade
Glitter like a swarm of fireflies tangled read more

Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade
Glitter like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid.

And o'er the hills and far away,
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the read more

And o'er the hills and far away,
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,
Thro' all the world she followed him.