Tuesday, March 30, 2010

To Lie In Rest

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,
The vapours weep their burthen to the ground,
Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath,
And after many summer dies the swan.
Me only cruel immortality
Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms,
Here at the quiet limit of the world.
-  Lord Alfred Tennyson, 1809-1892

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