But kind and dear Is the old house here When all birds sing In the town of the tree, And ye lie in me And scarce dare move Lest the earth and its love Should fade away Ere the full of the day.. I am old and have seen Many things that have been; And wane and increase. No tale I tell Of ill or well But this I say; Night treadeth on day, And for worst or best Right good is rest. WILLIAM MORRIS A LETTER My noble, lovely, little Peggy, Let this my First Epistle beg ye, Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in. Ring out false pride in place and blood, Ring in the common love of good. King out old shapes of foul disease; Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring in the Christ that is to be. ALFRED TENNYSON |