Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/150

 "Before the little ducts began To feed thy bones with lime, and ran Their course, till thou wert also man:

"Who took a wife, who rear'd his race, Whose wrinkles gather'd on his face, Whose troubles number with his days:

"A life of nothings, nothing-worth, From that first nothing ere his birth To that last nothing under earth!"

"These words," I said, "are like the rest, No certain clearness, but at best A vague suspicion of the breast:

"But if I grant, thou might'st defend The thesis which thy words intend— That to begin implies to end;