Frederick Tennyson
Frederick Tennyson
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.
summer song sweet
How sweet the harmonies of the afternoon! The Blackbird sings along the sunny breeze His ancient song of leaves, and summer boon; Rich breath of hayfields streams thro' whispering trees; And birds of morning trim their bustling wings, And listen fondly--while the Blackbird sings.
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.