In which the soul of the poet seems to mount, like a dove rising into the heavens with a message of woe tied under her wings;

Webi leave this mortal ark behind, a weight of nerves without a mind, and leave the cliffs, and haste away.

Webthine are these orbs of light and shade;

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I know no more. and he, shall he, man, her last work, who seem'd so fair, such splendid purpose.

And lo, thy foot.

Thou wilt not leave us in.

Webfor wisdom dealt with mortal powers, where truth in closest words shall fail, when truth embodied in a tale shall enter in at lowly doors.

The spirit does but mean the breath:

Is on the skull which thou hast made.

Webi bring to life, i bring to death:

And so the word had breath, and.

Thou madest life in man and brute;

Webthe prologue of in memoriam by alfred, lord tennyson is a profound meditation on faith, mortality, and the human quest for understanding.

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