The works of Alfred Tennyson, 3. kötet

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196. oldal - THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. ALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!" he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. II. " Forward, the Light Brigade!
277. oldal - LOWER in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies ;— Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower—but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is. A DEDICATION.
197. oldal - III. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd ; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred. IV. Flash'd all their sabres bare, Flash'd as they turn'd in air Sabring the gunners there,
71. oldal - Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river : 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. = IV.
273. oldal - Law is God, say some : no God at all, says the fool; For all we have power to see is a straight staff bent in a pool ; And the ear of man cannot hear, and the eye of man cannot see; But if we could see and hear, this Vision—were it not He ? T
246. oldal - Or later, pay one visit here, For those are few we hold as dear ; Nor pay but one, but come for many, Many and many a happy year. January, 1854. WILL. WELL for him whose will is strong! He suffers, but he will not suffer long; He suffers, but
54. oldal - in the white wake of the morning star Came furrowing all the orient into gold. We rose, and each by other drest with care Descended to the courts that lay three parts In shadow, but the Muses' heads were touch'd Above the darkness from their native East. There while we stood beside the fount, and watch'd
253. oldal - Splendid is the flower." Read my little fable : He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed. And some are pretty enough, And some are poor indeed; And now again the people Call it but a weed. REQUIESCAT.
235. oldal - LOVE, what hours were thine and mine, In lands of palm and southern pine; In lands of palm, of orange-blossom, Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine. What Roman strength Turbia show'd In ruin, by the mountain road ; How like a gem, beneath, the city Of little Monaco, basking, glow'd.
272. oldal - THE HIGHER PANTHEISM. Dark is the world to thee : thyself art the reason why; For is He not all but thou, that hast power to feel"! am I?" Glory about thee, without thee ; and thou fulfillest thy doom, Making Him broken gleams, and a stifled

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