Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
The thunders breaking at her feet:
Above her shook the starry lights:
She heard the torrents meet.
There in her place she did rejoice,
Self-gather'd in her prophet-mind,
But fragments of her mighty voice
Came rolling on the wind.
Then stept she down thro' town and field
To mingle with the human race,
And part by part to men reveal'd
The fullness of her face --
Grave mother of majestic works,
From her isle-alter gazing down,
Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks,
And, King-like, wears the crown:
Her open eyes desire the truth.
The wisdom of a thousand years
Is in them. May perpetual youth
Keep dry their light from tears;
That her fair form may stand and shine
Make bright our days and light our dreams,
Turning to scorn with lips divine
The falsehood of extremes!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
par Alfred Lord Tennyson, publié le ven. 30/12/2011 à 19:53
Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
par Alfred Lord Tennyson, publié le lun. 14/11/2011 à 01:14
Minnie and Winnie
Slept in a shell.
Sleep, little ladies!
And they slept well.
Pink was the shell within,
par Alfred Lord Tennyson, publié le ven. 04/11/2011 à 21:46
A prince I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face,
Of temper amorous, as the first of May,
par Alfred Lord Tennyson, publié le mer. 26/10/2011 à 02:27
O LOVE, Love, Love! O withering might!
O sun, that from thy noonday height
Shudderest when I strain my sight,
par Alfred Lord Tennyson, publié le dim. 23/10/2011 à 06:43
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair