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“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.” — Frederick Tennyson
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.