Frederick Tennyson
Frederick Tennyson
echoes forever answers
What would it profit thee to be the first Of echoes, tho thy tongue should live forever, A thing that answers, but hath not a thought As lasting but as senseless as a stone.
wind perfect joy
Softly the loud peal dies, In passing winds it drowns, But breathes, like perfect joys, Tender tones.
dream sweet moving
Tis not for golden eloquence I pray, A godlike tongue to move a stony heart-- Methinks it were full well to be apart In solitary uplands far away, Betwixt the blossoms of a rosy spray, Dreaming upon the wonderful sweet face Of Nature, in a wild and pathless place.