How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! As tho' to breath were life. Life piled on life Were all too littl… - Alfred Tennyson

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
As tho’ to breathe were life!

How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use.

an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!

On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And through the field the road runs by To many-towered Camelot.

O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each,
That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,
And dark and true and tender is the North.

So now I have sworn to bury
All this dead body of hate
I feel so free and so clear
By the loss of that dead weight