‘ULYSSES’ – A POEM BY TENNYSON !

Alfred+Lord+Tennyson+Quotes

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ULYSSES
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It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these
barren crags,
Match’d with an aged wife, I
mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard and sleep, and feed,
and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will
drink
Life to the lees: All times I have
enjoy’d
Greatly, have suffer’d greatly,
both with those
That loved me, and alone; on
shore, and when
Thro’ scudding drifts the rainy
Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a
name;
For always roaming with a
hungry heart
Much have I seen and known;
cities of men
And manners, climates, councils,
governments,
Myself not least, but honor’d of
them all;
And drunk delight of battle with
my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of
windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an 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: 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,
And this gray spirit yearning in
desire
To follow knowledge like a
sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bounds of
human thought.
This is my son, mine own
Telemachos,
To whom I leave the sceptre and
the isle-
Well-loved of me, discerning to
fulfill
This labour, by slow prudence to
make mild
A rugged people, and thro’ soft
degrees
Subdue them to the useful and
the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in
the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to
fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household
gods,
When I am gone. He works his
work, I mine.
There lies the port, the vessel
puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad
seas. My mariners,
Souls that have tol’d and
wrought, and thought with me-
That ever with a frolic welcome
took
The thunder and the sunshine,
and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads – you
and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and
his toil;
Death closes all: but something
ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may
yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove
with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from
the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow
moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices.
Come, my friends,
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer
world.
Push off, and sitting well in order
smite
The sounding furrows; for my
purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and
the baths
Of all the western stars, until I
die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash
us down:
It may be that we shall touch the
Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom
we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides;
and tho’
We are not now that strength
which in old days
Moved heaven and earth; that
which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic
hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but
strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not
to yield.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

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MRITYUNJAY JHA
4F,ADARSH NAGAR
SAMASTIPUR
BIHAR
INDIA.
848101.
+91 9334411390.
http://facebook.com/MJ1982M
http://twitter.com/MJ1982M

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