The old order changeth, yielding place to new, and god fulfills himself in many ways, lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Alfred Lord TennysonFill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born.
Alfred Lord TennysonAs she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
Alfred Lord TennysonAre God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life; ... 'So careful of the type', but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, 'A thousand types are gone: I care for nothing, all shall go' ... Man, her last work, who seemed so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes, Who rolled the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law- Tho' Nature red in tooth and claw With ravine, shrieked against his creed.
Alfred Lord Tennyson