Half the night I waste in sighs, Half in dreams I sorrow after The delight of early skies; In a wakeful dose I sorrow For the hand, the lips, the eyes, For the meeting of the morrow, The delight of happy laughter, The delight of low replies.
Alfred Lord TennysonIt may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles whom we knew.
Alfred Lord Tennyson