Ah, Christ, that it were possible, For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.
Alfred Lord TennysonSo now I have sworn to bury All this dead body of hate I feel so free and so clear By the loss of that dead weight
Alfred Lord TennysonHow dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life.
Alfred Lord TennysonShe sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd That lie upon her charmed heart She sleeps: on either hand upswells The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest: She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest.
Alfred Lord Tennyson