Category Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Unwatch’d, the garden bough shall sway,      The tender blossom flutter down,      Unloved, that beech will gather brown,This maple burn itself away; Unloved, the sun-flower, shining fair,      Ray round with flames her disk of seed,      And many a rose-carnation feedWith summer spice the humming air;…

I climb the hill: from end to end      Of all the landscape underneath,      I find no place that does not breatheSome gracious memory of my friend; No gray old grange, or lonely fold,      Or low morass and whispering reed,      Or simple stile from mead…

Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again,      So loud with voices of the birds,      So thick with lowings of the herds,Day, when I lost the flower of men; Who tremblest thro’ thy darkling red      On yon swoll’n brook that bubbles fast      By meadows breathing of the…

You leave us: you will see the Rhine,      And those fair hills I sail’d below,      When I was there with him; and goBy summer belts of wheat and vine To where he breathed his latest breath,      That City. All her splendour seems      No livelier…

My love has talk’d with rocks and trees;      He finds on misty mountain-ground      His own vast shadow glory-crown’d;He sees himself in all he sees. Two partners of a married life —      I look’d on these and thought of thee      In vastness and in mystery,And of my…

You say, but with no touch of scorn,      Sweet-hearted, you, whose light-blue eyes      Are tender over drowning flies,You tell me, doubt is Devil-born. I know not: one indeed I knew      In many a subtle question versed,      Who touch’d a jarring lyre at first,But ever strove…

By night we linger’d on the lawn,      For underfoot the herb was dry;      And genial warmth; and o’er the skyThe silvery haze of summer drawn; And calm that let the tapers burn      Unwavering: not a cricket chirr’d:      The brook alone far-off was heard,And on…

How pure at heart and sound in head,      With what divine affections bold      Should be the man whose thought would holdAn hour’s communion with the dead. In vain shalt thou, or any, call      The spirits from their golden day,      Except, like them, thou too canst…

I shall not see thee. Dare I say      No spirit ever brake the band      That stays him from the native landWhere first he walk’d when claspt in clay? No visual shade of some one lost,      But he, the Spirit himself, may come      Where all…

If any vision should reveal      Thy likeness, I might count it vain      As but the canker of the brain;Yea, tho’ it spake and made appeal To chances where our lots were cast      Together in the days behind,      I might but say, I hear a…