Make your own free website on Tripod.com

 

Home

Chronological
Index of
Tennyson's
Works

Timeline of
Tennyson's
Life

Links to
Other Tennyson
Sites

Sources/Info

Send Corrections,
Suggestions, or
Comments

 
‘And ask ye why these sad tears stream?’

         
          ‘Te somnia nostra reducunt.’
                OVID.

      And ask ye why these sad tears stream?
          Why these wan eyes are dim with weeping?
      I had a dream–a lovely dream,
          Of her that in the grave is sleeping.

      I saw her as ’twas yesterday,
          The bloom upon her cheek still glowing;
      And round her play’d a golden ray,
          And on her brows were gay flowers blowing.

      With angel-hand she swept a lyre,
          A garland red with roses bound it;
      Its strings were wreath’d with lambent fire
          And amaranth was woven round it.

      I saw her mid the realms of light,
          In everlasting radiance gleaming;
      Co-equal with the seraphs bright,
          Mid thousand thousand angels beaming.

      I strove to reach her, when, behold,
          Those fairy forms of bliss Elysian,
      And all that rich scene wrapt in gold,
          Faded in air–a lovely vision!

      And I awoke, but oh! to me
          That waking hour was doubly weary;
      And yet I could not envy thee,
          Although so blest, and I so dreary.
       


Printable Version of this Poem
Home
Chronological Index of Tennyson's Works
Timeline of Tennyson's Life
Links to Other Tennyson Sites
Sources/Info
Send Corrections, Suggestions, or Comments