Oh, for the touch of a vanish’d hand

Here’s a poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson: Break, Break, Break   Break, break, break,          On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter          The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fisherman’s boy,          That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad,Continue reading “Oh, for the touch of a vanish’d hand”

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