Alfred Tennyson quotes

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[M]any worlds, so much to do,
So little done, such things to be.
So many worlds, so much to do,
So little done, such things to be.
Men may rise on stepping-stones
Of their dead selves to higher things.
Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
...
Ring out, ring out thy mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring happy bells, across the snow:
...
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky;
I falter where I firmly trod,
And falling with my weight of cares
...
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly through the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.
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