Idylls Of The King: Song From The Marriage Of Geraint by Lord Alfred Tennyson

Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud;
Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.

Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;
With that wild wheel we go not up or down;
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.

Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;
Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands;
For man is man and master of his fate.

Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;
Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.

by Lord Alfred Tennyson

Other poems by 'Lord Alfred Tennyson'

Locksley Hall

The Miller's Daughter

Lady Clare

Late, Late, So Late

After-Thought

The Lotos-eaters

Morte D'Arthur

Tithonus

Dedication

Of Old Sat Freedom

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