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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 15. To

To-night the winds begin to rise
       And roar from yonder dropping day:
       The last red leaf is whirl’d away,
   The rooks are blown about the skies;
   The forest crack’d, the waters curl’d,
       The cattle huddled on the lea;
       And wildly dash’d on tower and tree
   The sunbeam strikes along the world:
   And but for fancies, which aver
      That all thy motions gently pass
      Athwart a plane of molten glass,
  I scarce could brook the strain and stir
 
  That makes the barren branches loud;
      And but for fear it is not so,
      The wild unrest that lives in woe
  Would dote and pore on yonder cloud
 
  That rises upward always higher,
      And onward drags a labouring breast,
      And topples round the dreary west,
  A looming bastion fringed with fire.
Other works by Lord Alfred Tennyson ...



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