Break, Break, BreakBy Alfred, Lord Tennyson Break, break, - TopicsExpress



          

Break, Break, BreakBy Alfred, Lord Tennyson Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fishermans boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanishd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still! Break, break, break At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
Posted on: Wed, 16 Jul 2014 18:05:31 +0000

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