When will the stream be aweary of flowing Under my eye? When will the wind be aweary of blowing Over the sky? When will the clouds be aweary of fleeting? When will the heart be aweary of beating? And nature die? Never, O, never, nothing will die; The stream flows, The wind blows, The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die. Nothing will die; All things will change Thro’ eternity. ’Tis the world’s winter; Autumn and summer Are gone long ago; Earth is dry to the centre, But spring, a new comer, A spring rich and strange, Shall make the winds blow Round and round, Thro’ and thro’, Here and there, Till the air And the ground Shall be fill’d with life anew. The world was never made; It will change, but it will not fade. So let the wind range; For even and morn Ever will be Thro’ eternity. Nothing was born; Nothing will die; All things will change.
This poem is featured in our selection of 100 Great Poems and Poetry for Students.
Return to the Alfred Lord Tennyson library , or . . . Read the next poem; Now Sleeps The Crimson Petal