In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 54, di Lord Alfred Tennyson | poesie, saggi e racconti nel Poeticous

Lord Alfred Tennyson

Lord Alfred Tennyson

In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 54

Oh, yet we trust that somehow good

Will be the final end of ill,

To pangs of nature, sins of will,

Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;

That nothing walks with aimless feet;

That not one life shall be destroy’d,

Or cast as rubbish to the void,

When God hath made the pile complete;

That not a worm is cloven in vain;

That not a moth with vain desire

Is shrivell’d in a fruitless fire,

Or but subserves another’s gain.

Behold, we know not anything;

I can but trust that good shall fall

At last—far off—at last, to all,

And every winter change to spring.

So runs my dream: but what am I?

An infant crying in the night:

An infant crying for the light:

And with no language but a cry.

#EnglishWriters #RhymedStanza #Victorian Series/Sequence

Altre opere di Lord Alfred Tennyson...

. There lies a vale in Ida, lovel… Than all the valleys of Ionian hi… The swimming vapour slopes athwart… Puts forth an arm, and creeps from… And loiters, slowly drawn. On eit…

He thought to quell the stubborn h… Madman! to chain with chains, and… That island queen who sways the fl… From Ind to Ind, but in fair dayl… When from her wooden walls,—lit by…

2

In Memoriam A. H. H.: 72. Risest Thou Thus, Dim Dawn, Again

Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, And howlest, issuing out of night, With blasts that blow the poplar w… And lash with storm the streaming… Day, when my crown’d estate begun

Morte D’Arthur

So all day long the noise of battl… Among the mountains by the winter… Until King Arthur’s table, man by… Had fallen in Lyonnesse about the… King Arthur: then, because his wo…

Maud; A Monodrama (from Part I)

Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flow… Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted…

1

To E. Fitzgerald: Tiresias

OLD FITZ, who from your suburb… Where once I tarried for a while, Glance at the wheeling orb of chan… And greet it with a kindly smile; Whom yet I see as there you sit

Fair is her cottage in its place, Where yon broad water sweetly slow… It sees itself from thatch to base Dream in the sliding tides. And fairer she, but ah how soon to…

1

Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go,

1

The Lady of Shalott, by John William Waterhouse

The Lady of Shalott (1832 version)

On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the… And thro’ the field the road runs… To many—tower’d Camelot;

5

In Memoriam A. H. H.: 39. Old Warder of These Buried Bones

Old warder of these buried bones, And answering now my random stroke With fruitful cloud and living smo… Dark yew, that graspest at the sto… And dippest toward the dreamless h…

Northern Farmer: New Style

Dosn’t thou ‘ear my ’erse’s legs,… Proputty, proputty, proputty—that’… Proputty, proputty, proputty—Sam,… Theer’s moor sense i’ one o’ 'is l… Woä—theer’s a craw to pluck wi’ th…

1

Milton (Alcaics)

O mighty-mouth’d inventor of harmo… O skill’d to sing of Time or Eter… God-gifted organ-voice of England… Milton, a name to resound for ages… Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abd…

1

Idylls of the King: The Last Tournament (Excerpt)

Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in… Had made mock-knight of Arthur’s… At Camelot, high above the yellow… Danced like a wither’d leaf before… And toward him from the hall, with…

Late, Late, so Late

Late, late, so late! and dark the… Late, late, so late! but we can en… Too late, too late! ye cannot ente… No light had we: for that we do re… And learning this, the bridegroom…

In Memoriam A. H. H.: 15. To

To-night the winds begin to rise And roar from yonder dropping day: The last red leaf is whirl’d away, The rooks are blown about the skie… The forest crack’d, the waters cur…

1