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. — Frederick Tennyson Copy Share Image
Softly the loud peal dies, In passing winds it drowns, But breathes, like perfect joys, Tender tones. — Frederick Tennyson Copy Share Image
How sweet the harmonies of the afternoon! The Blackbird sings along the sunny breeze His ancient song of leaves, and summer boon; Rich breath… — Frederick Tennyson Copy Share Image
Tis not for golden eloquence I pray, A godlike tongue to move a stony heart-- Methinks it were full well to be apart In… — Frederick Tennyson Copy Share Image
What would it profit thee to be the first Of echoes, tho thy tongue should live forever, A thing that answers, but hath not… — Frederick Tennyson Copy Share Image
