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Alfred Tennyson (Lord)

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There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night-dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes.
--
Choric Song, st. 1.

 
Alfred Tennyson (Lord)

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