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Lord Alfred Tennyson

Lord Alfred Tennyson

The Eagle

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
 
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

#English #Victorians #RhymedStanza

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As thro’ the land at eve we went, And pluck’d the ripen’d ears, We fell out, my wife and I, O we fell out I know not why, And kiss’d again with tears.
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Faint as a climate-changing bird t… All night across the darkness, and… Falls on the threshold of her nati… And can no more, thou camest, O m… Led upward by the God of ghosts a…
The Death of the Old Year

Full knee-deep lies the winter sno… And the winter winds are wearily s… Toll ye the church bell sad and sl… And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying.
To Edward Lear: on His Travels in Greece

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In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 116

Is it, then, regret for buried tim… That keenlier in sweet April wake… And meets the year, and gives and… The colours of the crescent prime? Not all: the songs, the stirring a…
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 121

Sad Hesper o’er the buried sun And ready, thou, to die with him, Thou watchest all things ever dim And dimmer, and a glory done: The team is loosen’d from the wain…
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In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 45

The baby new to earth and sky, What time his tender palm is prest Against the circle of the breast, Has never thought that “this is I… But as he grows he gathers much,
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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…
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The Princess: O Swallow

O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flyin… Fly to her, and fall upon her gild… And tell her, tell her, what I te… O tell her, Swallow, thou that kn… That bright and fierce and fickle…
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Once more the Heavenly Power Makes all things new, And domes the red-plowed hills With loving blue; The blackbirds have their wills,
In Memoriam 82: I Wage Not Any Feud With Death

I wage not any feud with Death For changes wrought on form and fa… No lower life that earth’s embrace May breed with him, can fright my… Eternal process moving on,
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 44. How Fares It With the Happy Dead?

How fares it with the happy dead? For here the man is more and more; But he forgets the days before God shut the doorways of his head. The days have vanish’d, tone and t…
The Princess (Part 5)

Now, scarce three paces measured f… We stumbled on a stationary voice, And ‘Stand, who goes?’ 'Two from… ‘The second two: they wait,’ he s… His Highness wakes:’ and one, tha…



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