ONCE we read Tennyson aloud In our great fireside chair; Between the lines, my lips could touch Her April-scented hair. How very fond I was, to think The printed poems fair, When close within my arms I held A living lyric there! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHEPHERD, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: PROEM by ALFRED TENNYSON A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 19 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT MIDWINTER by MARGARET E. BRUNER CRADLE SONG by PAULINE FRANCES CAMP THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE CANON'S YEOMAN'S PROLOGUE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |