<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341684" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In Memoriam A. H. H.: 96. You say, but with no touch of sco</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You say, but with no touch of scorn,<br> Sweet-hearted, you, whose light-blue eyes<br> Are tender over drowning flies,<br> You tell me, doubt is Devil-born.<br> I know not: one indeed I knew<br> In many a subtle question versed,<br> Who touch'd a jarring lyre at first,<br> But ever strove to make it true:<br> Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds,<br> At last he beat his music out.<br> There lives more faith in honest doubt,<br> Believe me, than in half the creeds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> He fought his doubts and gather'd strength,<br> He would not make his judgment blind,<br> He faced the spectres of the mind<br> And laid them: thus he came at length</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> To find a stronger faith his own;<br> And Power was with him in the night,<br> Which makes the darkness and the light,<br> And dwells not in the light alone,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But in the darkness and the cloud,<br> As over Sina&iuml;'s peaks of old,<br> While Israel made their gods of gold,<br> Altho' the trumpet blew so loud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Lord+Tennyson">Alfred Lord Tennyson</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341684" data-title="In Memoriam A. H. H.: 96. You say, but with no touch of sco de Alfred Lord Tennyson" data-description="You say, but with no touch of scorn, Sweet-hearted, you, whose light-blue eyes Are tender over drowning flies, You tell me, doubt is Devil-born. I know not: one indeed I knew In many a subtle question versed, Who touch'd a jarring lyre at fi..."></div> </div> </div>

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