My Obi-Wan, or, Tennyson
Tonight is an In Memoriam night. Among my favorites…
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Behold, ye speak an idle thing: Ye never knew the sacred dust: I do but sing because I must, And pipe but as the linnets sing.
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For I am but an earthly Muse, And owning but a little art To lull with song an aching heart, And render human love his dues.
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And what delights can equal those That stir the spirit’s inner deeps, When one that loves but knows not, reaps A truth from one that loves and knows?
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Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At last–far off–at last, to all, And every winter change to spring.
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