Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/234

 "Fear not thou to loose thy tongue; Set thy hoary fancies free: What is loathsome to the young Savours well to thee and me.

"Change, reverting to the years, When thy nerves could understand What there is in loving tears, And the warmth of hand in hand.

"Tell me tales of thy first love— April hopes, the fools of chance; Till the graves begin to move, And the dead begin to dance.

"Fill the can, and fill the cup: All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.