Lord Alfred Tennyson

Look you! I myself am nearest to myself.

Look you! I myself am nearest to myself.

And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.

And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.

And feet like sunny gems on an English green.

And feet like sunny gems on an English green.

We issued gorged with knowledge, and I spoke:
"Why, Sirs, they do all this as well as we."
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We issued gorged with knowledge, and I spoke:
"Why, Sirs, they do all this as well as we."
"They hunt old trails" said Cyril, "very well;
But when did woman ever yet invent?"

Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.

Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.