Not once or twice in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.
Alfred Lord TennysonFor now the poet cannot die, Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry.
Alfred Lord TennysonThere rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.
Alfred Lord Tennyson