Nothing Will Die (a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson)

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, Oh ! 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

Through eternity

'Tis the world's winter;

Autumn and summer

Are gone long ago;

Earth is dry to the center,

But spring, a new comer,

A spring rich ang strange,

Shall make the winds blow

Round and round,

Through and through,

Here and there,

Till the air

And the ground

Shall be filled with life a new,

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

Through eternity,

Nothing was born;

Nothing will die;

All things will changee,