PoemsBook - 1866
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From (The Idylls of the King - The Passing of Arthur): But now farewell. I am going a long way / With these thou seëst—if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)— To the island-valley of Avilion; Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies / Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns / And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, / where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
From (The Charge of the Light Brigade): Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death / Rode the six hundred.
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