Lord Alfred Tennyson

In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 82

I wage not any feud with Death
        For changes wrought on form and face;
        No lower life that earth’s embrace
May breed with him, can fright my faith.
 
Eternal process moving on,
        From state to state the spirit walks;
        And these are but the shatter’d stalks,
Or ruin’d chrysalis of one.
 
Nor blame I Death, because he bare
        The use of virtue out of earth:
        I know transplanted human worth
Will bloom to profit, otherwhere.
 
For this alone on Death I wreak
        The wrath that garners in my heart;
        He put our lives so far apart
We cannot hear each other speak.
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