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A Rosebud Set With Little Wilful Thorns, And Sweet As English Air Could Make Her, She.
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A rosebud set with little wilful thorns,
And sweet as English air could make her, she.
-- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)
-- The Princess, Part i, Line 153
Related:
With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans, And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair.
-- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- The Princess, Prologue, Line 141...
There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.
-- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- The Princess, Part iv, Line 1...
Unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square.
-- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- The Princess, Part iv, Line 33...
Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls. -- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- Maud, Part i, Sect.
xxii, Stanza 9...
Sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is swee
Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moan of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees....
Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for othe
deep as love,-- Deep as first love, and wild with all regret....
Jewels five-words-long, That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever.
-- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- The Princess, Part ii, Line 355...
O Love! they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or rive
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever....
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean. Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart and gather to the eye
In looking on the happy autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more....