"O Love! they die in yon rich sky,……" — Alfred Lord Tennyson

O Love! they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill… - Alfred Lord Tennyson
"O Love! they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying! And answer, echoes, answer! dying, dying, dying."

Alfred Lord Tennyson

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