Classic and Contemporary Poetry
IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 89, by ALFRED TENNYSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Witch-elms that counterchange the floor Last Line: And buzzings of the honeyed hours. 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 | ||||||||
Witch-elms that counterchange the floor Of this flat lawn with dusk and bright; And thou, with all thy breadth and height Of foliage, towering sycamore; How often, hither wandering down, My Arthur found your shadows fair, And shook to all the liberal air The dust and din and steam of town! He brought an eye for all he saw; He mixt in all our simple sports; They pleased him, fresh from brawling courts And dusty purlieus of the law. O joy to him in this retreat, Immantled in ambrosial dark, To drink the cooler air, and mark The landscape winking thro' the heat! O sound to rout the brood of cares, The sweep of scythe in morning dew, The gust that round the garden flew, And tumbled half the mellowing pears! O bliss, when all in circle drawn About him, heart and ear were fed To hear him, as he lay and read The Tuscan poets on the lawn! Or in the all-golden afternoon A guest, or happy sister, sung, Or here she brought the harp and flung A ballad to the brightening moon. Nor less it pleased in livelier moods, Beyond the bounding hill to stray, And break the livelong summer day With banquet in the distant woods; Whereat we glanced from theme to theme, Discuss'd the books to love or hate, Or touch'd the changes of the state, Or threaded some Socratic dream; But if I praised the busy town, He loved to rail against it still, For 'ground in yonder social mill We rub each other's angles down, 'And merge,' he said, 'in form and gloss The picturesque of man and man.' We talk'd: the stream beneath us ran, The wine-flask lying couch'd in moss, Or cool'd within the glooming wave; And last, returning from afar, Before the crimson-circled star Had fallen into her father's grave, And brushing ankle-deep in flowers, We heard behind the woodbine veil The milk that bubbled in the pail, And buzzings of the honeyed hours. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOU & I BELONG IN THIS KITCHEN by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA JASON THE REAL by TONY HOAGLAND NO RESURRECTION by ROBINSON JEFFERS CHAMBER MUSIC: 17 by JAMES JOYCE CHAMBER MUSIC: 18 by JAMES JOYCE THE STONE TABLE by GALWAY KINNELL ALMSWOMAN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO AN ENEMY by MAXWELL BODENHEIM SONNET: 10. TO A FRIEND by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES A CHARACTER by ALFRED TENNYSON |
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