In Memoriam A. H. H. Obiit Mdcccxxxiii: Part 057

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Peace; come away: the song of woe
  Is after all an earthly song:
  Peace; come away: we do him wrong
To sing so wildly: let us go.

Come; let us go: your cheeks are pale;
  But half my life I leave behind:
  Methinks my friend is richly shrined;
But I shall pass; my work will fail.

Yet in these ears, till hearing dies,
  One set slow bell will seem to toll
  The passing of the sweetest soul
That ever look’d with human eyes.

I hear it now, and o’er and o’er,
  Eternal greetings to the dead;
  And ‘Ave, Ave, Ave,’ said,
‘Adieu, adieu’ for evermore.

Index + Blog :

Poetry Archive Index | Blog : Poem of the Day