A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
Behold, we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last -- far off -- at last, to all,
And every winter change to spring.
Tags: inspirational optimism poetry hope hopelessness tennyson
The words 'far, far away' had always a strange charm.
Alfred Tennyson« first previous
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