No sound is breathed so potent to coerce And to conciliate, as their names who dare For that sweet mother-land which gave them birth Nobly to do, nobly to die.
Alfred Tennyson
Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath Preluded those melodious bursts that fill The spacious times of great Elizabeth With sounds that echo still.
sound thetimes time
Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home.
sound home
His deeds yet live, the worst is yet to come. Yet let your sleep for this one night be sound: I do forgive him!
sleep sound deeds
But oh for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!
sound
birth sound
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