Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 17, by ALFRED TENNYSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 17, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Thou comest, much wept for; such a breeze
Last Line: Till all my widow'd race be run.
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


Thou comest, much wept for; such a breeze
Compell'd thy canvas, and my prayer
Was as the whisper of an air
To breathe thee over lonely seas.

For I in spirit saw thee move
Thro' circles of the bounding sky,
Week after week; the days go by;
Come quick, thou bringest all I love.

Henceforth, wherever thou mayst roam,
My blessing, like a line of light,
Is on the waters day and night,
And like a beacon guards thee home.

So may whatever tempest mars
Mid-ocean spare thee, sacred bark,
And balmy drops in summer dark
Slide from the bosom of the stars;

So kind an office hath been done,
Such precious relics brought by thee,
The dust of him I shall not see
Till all my widow'd race be run.





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