The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after many summer dies the swan. Me only cruel immortality Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world.
-Alfred Lord Tennyson
Select a background
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Popular Authors
A curated listing of popular authors.