Beauties of Tennyson
                                            
                            By Alfred Tennyson
                            
                                30 Oct, 2019                            
                            
                         
                                        
                                                                        I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
                                                I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges. Less