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Canto XLVIII

  • sammack1126
  • Oct 14, 2019
  • 1 min read



If these brief lays, of Sorrow born,   Were taken to be such as closed    Grave doubts and answers here proposed, Then these were such as men might scorn:


Her care is not to part and prove;    She takes, when harsher moods remit,    What slender shade of doubt may flit, And makes it vassal unto love:


And hence, indeed, she sports with words,    But better serves a wholesome law,    And holds it sin and shame to draw The deepest measure from the chords:


Nor dare she trust a larger lay,    But rather loosens from the lip    Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings in tears, and skim away.


-Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam A. H. H., Canto XLVIII

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