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

 
Midnight

       
    ’Tis midnight o’er the dim mere’s lonely bosom,
        Dark, dusky, windy midnight: swift are driven
    The swelling vapours onward: every blossom
        Bathes its bright petals in the tears of heaven.
    Imperfect, half-seen objects meet the sight,
        The other half our fancy must pourtray;
    A wan, dull, lengthen’d sheet of swimming light
        Lies the broad lake: the moon conceals her ray,
    Sketch’d faintly by a pale and lurid gleam
        Shot thro’ the glimmering clouds: the lovely planet
    Is shrouded in obscurity; the scream
        Of owl is silenc’d; and the rocks of granite
    Rise tall and drearily, while damp and dank
    Hang the thick willows on the reedy bank.
    Beneath, the gurgling eddies slowly creep,
        Blacken’d by foliage; and the glutting wave,
    That saps eternally the cold grey steep,
        Sounds heavily within the hollow cave.
    All earth is restless–from his glossy wing
        The heath-fowl lifts his head at intervals;
        Wet, driving, rainy, come the bursting squalls;
    All nature wears her dun dead covering.
    Tempest is gather’d, and the brooding storm
    Spreads its black mantle o’er the mountain’s form;
    And, mingled with the rising roar, is swelling,
    From the far hunter’s booth, the blood hound’s yelling.
    The water-falls in various cadence chiming,
        Or in one loud unbroken sheet descending,
           Salute each other thro’ the night’s dark womb;
        The moaning pine-trees to the wild blast bending,
           Are pictured faintly thro’ the chequer’d gloom;
    The forests, half-way up the mountain climbing,
        Resound with crash of falling branches; quiver
           Their aged mossy trunks: the startled doe
        Leaps from her leafy lair: the swelling river
           Winds his broad stream majestic, deep, and slow.
     


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