Her eyes are homes of silent prayer.
-- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)
-- In Memoriam, xxxii, Stanza 1
-- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)
-- In Memoriam, xxxii, Stanza 1
Related:
- And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.
Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, xviii... - Oh yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill.
Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, liv, Stanza... - Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky!
-- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)
-
In Memoriam, cv, Stanza... - The shadow cloak'd from head to foot.
-- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)
-
In Memoriam, xxiii, Stanza... - So many worlds, so much to do,
So little done, such things to be.
Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, lxxiii... - Whose faith has centre everywhere,
Nor cares to fix itself to form.
Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, xxxiii... - Hold thou the good; define it well;
For fear divine Philosophy
Should push beyond her mark,
and be Procuress to the Lords of Hell. -- Alfred Tennyson... - I held it truth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead... - And grasps the skirts of happy chance,
And breasts the blows of circumstance.
Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, lxiv,...
