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Alfred Lord Tennyson - In Memoriam 16: I envy not in any moods
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I envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage,
That never knew the summer woods:

I envy not the beast that takes
His license in the field of time,
Unfetter`d by the sense of crime,
To whom a conscience never wakes;

Nor, what may count itself as blest,
The heart that never plighted troth
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
Nor any want-begotten rest.

I hold it true, whate`er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
`Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
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