Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, Thy tribute wave deliver: No more by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever. Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea, A rivulet then a river: Nowhere by thee my steps shall be For ever and for ever. But here…
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She is coming, my own, my sweet;Were it ever so airy a tread,My heart would hear her and beat,Were it earth in an earthy bed;My dust would hear her and beat,Had I lain for a century dead,Would start and tremble under her feet,And blossom in purple and red. Alfred Lord…
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Alfred Lord Tennyson (England 1809 – 1892) I come from haunts of coot and hern,I make a sudden sallyAnd sparkle out among the fern,To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down,Or slip between the ridges,By twenty thorpes, a little town,And half a hundred bridges. Till last by…
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‘Te somnia nostra reducunt.’ OVID. And ask ye why these sad tears stream?Why these wan eyes are dim with weeping?I had a dream-a lovely dream,Of her that in the grave is sleeping. I saw her as ’twas yesterday,The bloom upon her cheek still glowing;And round her play’d a golden ray,And…
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Come not, when I am dead,To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,To trample round my fallen head,And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.There let the wind sweep and the plover cry;But thou, go by. Child, if it were thine error or thy crimeI care no longer, being…