Alfred, Lord Tennyson - In Memoriam A.H.H. (1849)

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Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

My darken'd ways
Shall ring with music all the same;
To breathe my loss is more than fame,
To utter love more sweet than praise.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

How many a father have I seen,
A sober man, among his boys,
Whose youth was full of foolish noise.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Eternal process moving on,
From state to state the spirit walks;
And these are but the shatter'd stalks,
Or ruin'd chrysalis of one.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

What hope is here for modern rhyme
To him, who turns a musing eye
On songs, and deeds, and lives, that lie
Foreshorten'd in the tract of time?

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

"The stars," she whispers, "blindly run: A web is wov'n across the sky; From our waste places comes a cry, And murmurs from the dying sun."

Alfred, Lord Tennyson