Fair is her cottage in its place,
Where yon broad water sweetly slowly glides.
It sees itself from thatch to base
Dream in the sliding tides. 

And fairer she, but ah how soon to die!
Her quiet dream of life this hour may cease.
Her peaceful being slowly passes by
To some more perfect peace.

Added: Mar 11 2005 | Viewed: 539 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Alfred Lord Tennyson
Poem: Requiescat

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