Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough. Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades. Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life!
Alfred Lord TennysonAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: english
- Born: August 6, 1809
- Died: October 6, 1892
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