Language
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,
Home they brought her warrior dead.
Dear as remembered kisses after death.
After it, follow it,
Death is the end of life; ah, why
Forward, forward let us range,
She left the web, she left the loom,
Out flew the web and floated wide;
There hath he lain for ages and will lie
One God, one law, one element,
God’s finger touched him, and he slept.
There lives more faith in honest doubt,
So many worlds, so much to do,
That men may rise on stepping-stones
More things are wrought by prayer
The old order changeth, yielding place to new,