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Home  »  The Book of Sorrow  »  Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.

From ‘Maud’

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

O THAT ’twere possible

After long grief and pain

To find the arms of my true love

Round me once again!…

A shadow flits before me,

Not thou, but like to thee:

Ah Christ, that it were possible

For one short hour to see

The souls we loved, that they might tell us

What and where they be….

Half the night I waste in sighs,

Half in dreams I sorrow after

The delight of early skies;

In a wakeful doze I sorrow

For the hand, the lips, the eyes,

For the meeting of the morrow,

The delight of happy laughter,

The delight of low replies.