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The little bee returns with evening's gloom, To join her comrades in the braided hive, Where, housed beside their might honey-comb, They dream their polity shall long survive.
Charles Tennyson Turner -
The rainbow bursts like magic on mine eyes! In hues of ancient promise there imprest.
Charles Tennyson Turner
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Not until he stood at the altar did he achieve a sense of being hale and furnished. It was strange, he thought, that a man would find his surest current in the spot where he felt least worthy.
Charles Tennyson Turner -
It was a perfect night for a train. The occasional whistle told Louis of all the farewells he had ever known.
Charles Tennyson Turner -
When the whistle blew and the call stretched thin across the night, one had to believe that any journey could be sweet to the soul.
Charles Tennyson Turner