Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/196

 Thro' many an hour of summer suns, By many pleasant ways, Like Hezekiah's, backward runs The shadow of my days: I kiss the lips I once have kiss'd; The gas-light wavers dimmer; And softly, thro' a vinous mist, My college friendships glimmer.

I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men, Who hold their hands to all, and cry For that which all deny them— Who sweep the crossings, wet or dry, And all the world go by them.

Ah yet, tho' all the world forsake, Though fortune clip my wings, I will not cramp my heart, nor take Half-views of men and things.