 | 1881 - 622 sidor
...arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains... | |
 | 1895 - 588 sidor
...where through Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use ! As though to breathe were life.' Then comes the sketch of Telemachus,... | |
 | Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1842 - 250 sidor
...arch wherethro' Gleams that untravelTd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains... | |
 | Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1843 - 256 sidor
...arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains... | |
 | 1871 - 878 sidor
...had enough of rest." It denounces, not the vanity of working, but the vanity of ceasing work : — " How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use, As though to breathe were life ! " But the restlessness of Ulysses,... | |
 | Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1845 - 510 sidor
...arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life • Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains... | |
 | 1845 - 732 sidor
...arch where thro' Gleams that untravel'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho" to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains... | |
 | Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1846 - 254 sidor
...arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life ! Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains... | |
 | Edwin Percy Whipple - 1848 - 372 sidor
...arch where thro' Gleams that untravel'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unbumish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little,... | |
 | 1900 - 614 sidor
...of fashion, like a rusty mail in monumental mockery. Shakspeare, ' Troilus and Cressida,' III. iii. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished. Dot to shine in use ! Tennyson, 'Ulysses.' E. YARDLEY. QEOBGE WITHER. (See ante, p. 300.)... | |
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Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself... 
