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" As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard... "
The Works of Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate - Seite 107
von Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1878 - 665 Seiten
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Passional Hygiene and Natural Medicine: Embracing the Harmonies of Man with ...

M. Edgeworth Lazurus - 1852 - 436 Seiten
...move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use ! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all...utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telcmachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This...
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Passional Hygiene and Natural Medicine: Embracing the Harmonies of Man with ...

M. Edgeworth Lazarus - 1852 - 436 Seiten
...piled on lift Were all too little, and of one to me Ijtlle remains: but every hour is saved From tliat eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new...utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Tcleinachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil Tliis...
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Poems

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1853 - 379 Seiten
...wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd,...utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemaehus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This...
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Palæstra musarum; or, Materials for translation into Greek verse, selected ...

Benjamin Hall Kennedy - 1856
...move. How dull it is to pause ! to make an end ! To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use, As though to breathe were life ! Life piled on life Were all...sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. 588. Is this a dagger, which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee....
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Poems

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1858 - 379 Seiten
...me Little remains : but every hour is saved ' From that eternal silence, something more, A briuger of new things ; and vile it were For some three suns...knowledge, like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of Iraman thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well-loved...
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Poetical Works, Band 1

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1861
...move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to sliine in use ! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all...sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought Tliis is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well-loved of me,...
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the poetical works of alfred tennyson

alfred tennyson - 1862
...move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use ! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all...hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire rTo follow knowledge, like a sinking starf* ^ Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my...
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Foliorum silvula, selections for translation into Latin and Greek ..., Band 2

Hubert Ashton Holden - 1864
...all too little, and of one to me little remains: but every hour is saved 526 Passages for Translation from that eternal silence, something more, a bringer...sinking star, beyond the utmost bound of human thought. 1296 There lies the port: the vessel puffs her sail: there gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,...
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Repetition and reading book, selections by C. Bilton

Charles Bilton - 1866
...wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd,...thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom 1 leave the sceptre and the isle — 'Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This labour, by slow prudence...
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The Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson: Poet Laureate, Etc. Complete ..., Band 1

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1866
...move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnisned, not to shine in use ! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all...utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Tclemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This...
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