In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 27

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.
Other works by Lord Alfred Tennyson ...