Deep on the convent-roof the snows; Are sparkling to the moon; My breath to heaven like vapour goes; May my soul follow soon.
More Quotes from Alfred Lord Tennyson:
Dowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love.Alfred Lord Tennyson
The rise; And long roll of the Hexameter.
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Thou madest man, he knows not why.
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Bright and fierce and fickle is the South, And dark and true and tender is the North.
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To rust unburnished, not to shine in use.
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I come from haunt of coot and her, I make s sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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