For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the Soul within. - Alfred Tennyson

When every morning brought a noble chance, And every chance brought out a noble knight.

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home.

I sometime hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel;
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.