|
Move eastward, happy earth, and leave Yon orange sunset waning slow: From fringes of the faded eve, O, happy planet, eastward go; Till over thy dark shoulder glow Thy silver sister-world, and rise To glass herself in dewy eyes That watch me from the glen below.
Ah, bear me with thee, smoothly borne, Home Chronological Index of Tennyson's Works Timeline of Tennyson's Life Links to Other Tennyson Sites Sources/Info Send Corrections, Suggestions, or Comments |