a. 1848. And if their eyes should watch and weep She would not, in her tranquil sleep, Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound, 24 28 Emily Bronte. "BREAK, BREAK, BREAK" BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand. Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. 16 8 1842. Lord Tennyson. IN THE VALLEY OF CAUTERETZ ALL along the valley, stream that flashest white, Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the night, All along the valley, where thy waters flow, I walk'd with one I loved two and thirty years ago. All along the valley, while I walk'd to-day, The two and thirty years were a mist that rolls away; For all along the valley, down thy rocky bed, Thy living voice to me was as the voice of the dead, And all along the valley, by rock and cave and tree, The voice of the dead was a living voice to me. 10 Lord Tennyson. 1864. WAGES GLORY of warrior, glory of orator, glory of song, Paid with a voice flying by to be lost on an endless sea Glory of Virtue, to fight, to struggle, to right the wrong Nay, but she aim'd not at glory, no lover of glory she: Give her the glory of going on, and still to be. 5 The wages of sin is death: if the wages of Virtue be dust, Would she have heart to endure for the life of the worm and the fly? She desires no isles of the blest, no quiet seats of the just, To rest in a golden grove, or to bask in a summer sky: Give her the wages of going on, and not to die. 10 1868. UP-HILL Lord Tennyson. DOES the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? Will there be beds for me and all who seek? Yea, beds for all who come. 1858. 1862. Christina Georgina Rossetti. THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, The night is dark, and I am far from home- Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou I loved to choose and see my path; but now 12 16 I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, So long Thy power hath blessed me, sure it still O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone; And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile. 18 1833. John Henry Newman. CROSSING THE BAR SUNSET and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face 1889. When I have crossed the bar. Lord Tennyson. 12 16 8 |