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

 
The Blackbird

         
      O blackbird! sing me something well:
          While all the neighbors shoot thee round,
          I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground,
      Where thou mayst warble, eat, and dwell.

      The espaliers and the standards all
          Are thine; the range of lawn and park;
          The unnetted black-hearts ripen dark,
      All thine, against the garden wall.

      Yet, tho’ I spared thee all the spring,
          Thy sole delight is, sitting still,
          With that gold dagger of thy bill
      To fret the summer jenneting.

      A golden bill! ths silver tongue,
          Cold February loved, is dry;
          Plenty corrupts the melody
      That made thee famous once when young;

      And in the sultry garden-squares,
          Now thy flute-notes are changed to coarse,
          I hear thee not at all, or hoarse
      As when a hawker hawks his wares.

      Take warning! he that will not sing
          While yon sun prospers in the blue,
          Shall sing for want, ere leaves are new,
      Caught in the frozen palms of Spring.
       


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