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" Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore, And the individual withers, and the world is more and more. "
The Alphabet of Rhetoric: With a Chapter on Elocution; Intended as a ... - Page 215
by Rossiter Johnson - 1903 - 368 pages
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Poems, Volume 2

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1842 - 252 pages
...reaps not harvest of his youthful joys, Tho' the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy's ? Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger...experience moving toward the stillness of his rest. Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the bugle-horn, They to whom my foolish passion were a...
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Poems, Volume 2

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1842 - 250 pages
...harvest of his youthful joys, Tho' the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy's! Knowlege comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore,...individual withers, and the world is more and more. Knowlege comes, but wisdom lingers, and he bears a laden breast, Full of sad experience moving toward...
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Christian Examiner and Theological Review, Volume 33

Theology - 1843 - 424 pages
...reaps not harvest of his youthful joys, Tho' the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy's? Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger...experience moving toward the stillness of his rest. Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the bugle-horn, They to whom my foolish passion were a...
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Poems, Volume 2

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1843 - 256 pages
...reaps not harvest of his youthful joys, Tho' the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy's ? Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger...experience moving toward the stillness of his rest. Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the bugle-horn, They to whom my foolish passion were a...
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The Poets and Poetry of England, in the Nineteenth Century

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - Authors, English - 1845 - 558 pages
...reaps not harvest of bis youthful joys, Though the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy's 1 Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger...experience, moving toward the stillness of his rest. Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the bugle-horn, They to whom my foolish passion were a...
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Poems

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1845 - 510 pages
...reaps not harvest of his youthful joys, Tho' the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy's ? Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger...And the individual withers, and the world is more an more. Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and he bears a laden breast, Full of sad experience moving...
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Poems, Volume 2

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - English poetry - 1846 - 254 pages
...reaps not harvest of his youthful joys, Tho' the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy's? Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger...experience moving toward the stillness of his rest. Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the bugle-horn, They to whom my foolish passion were a...
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The Poets and Poetry of England: In the Nineteenth Century

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - Authors, English - 1846 - 540 pages
...reaps not harvest of his youthful joys, Though the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy's ! Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger...withers, and the world is more and more. Knowledge come?, but wisdom lingers, and he bears a laden breast, Full of sad experience, moving toward the stillness...
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Poems

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1850 - 402 pages
...widen'd with the process of the suns. What is that to him that reaps not harvest of his youthful joys, Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger...experience moving toward the stillness of his rest. Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the bugle-horn, They to whom my foolish passion were a...
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Poems

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1851 - 1851 - 300 pages
...widened with the process of the suns. What is that to him that reaps not harvest of his youthful joys, Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger...experience moving toward the stillness of his rest. Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the. bugle-horn, They to whom my foolish passion were...
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