Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 107, by ALFRED TENNYSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 107, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: It is the day when he was born
Last Line: And sing the songs he loved to hear.
Alternate Author Name(s): Tennyson, Lord Alfred; Tennyson, 1st Baron; Tennyson Of Aldworth And Farringford, Baron
Subject(s): Hallam, Arthur Henry (1811-1833); Death; Mourning; Friendship


It is the day when he was born,
A bitter day that early sank
Behind a purple-frosty bank
Of vapor, leaving night forlorn.

The time admits not flowers or leaves
To deck the banquet. Fiercely flies
The blast of North and East, and ice
Makes daggers at the sharpen'd eaves,

And bristles all the brakes and thorns
To you hard crescent, as she hangs
Above the wood which grides and clangs
Its leafless ribs and iron horns

Together, in the drifts that pass
To darken on the rolling brine
That breaks the coast. But fetch the wine,
Arrange the board and brim the glass;

Bring in great logs and let them lie,
To make a solid core of heat;
Be cheerful-minded, talk and treat
Of all things even as he were by;

We keep the day. With festal cheer,
With books and music, surely we
Will drink to him, whate'er he be,
And sing the songs he loved to hear.





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