Of happy men that have the power to die, And grassy barrows of the happier dead.
Alfred Lord TennysonThe smell of violets, hidden in the green, Pour'd back into my empty soul and frame The times when I remembered to have been Joyful and free from blame.
Alfred Lord TennysonHe will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
Alfred Lord Tennyson