45

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55

6o

65

70

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1 138 / ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

And deep-asleep he seemed, yet all awake,

And music in his ears his beating heart did make.

They sat them down upon the yellow sand,

Between the sun and moon upon the shore;

And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland,

Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore

Most weary seemed the sea, weary the oar,

Weary the wandering fields of barren foam,

Then some one said, 'We will return no more'; And all at once they sang, 'Our island home0 Ithaca

Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam.'

Choric Song1.6

There is sweet music here that softer falls

Than petals from blown roses on the grass,

Or night-dews on still waters between walls

Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;

Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,

Than tired7 eyelids upon tired eyes; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.

Here are cool mosses deep,

And through the moss the ivies creep,

And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,

And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.

2

Why are we weighed upon with heaviness,

And utterly consumed with sharp distress,

While all things else have rest from weariness?

All things have rest: why should we toil alone,

We only toil, who are the first of things,

And make perpetual moan,

Still from one sorrow to another thrown;

Nor ever fold our wings,

And cease from wanderings, Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm;

Nor harken what the inner spirit sings,

'There is no joy but calm!'? Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?8

3

Lo! in the middle of the wood,

The folded leaf is wooed from out the bud

With winds upon the branch, and there

Grows green and broad, and takes no care,

6. Sung by the mariners. 8. Cf. The Faerie Qiteene 2.6.17: 'Why then dost 7. Tennyson wanted the word to be pronounced thou, O man, that of them all / Art Lord, and eke as tie-yerd rather than tier'd or tire-ed, thus 'mak-of nature Sovereaine,/Wilfully . . . wast thyjoyous ing the word neither monosyllable or disyllabic, but houres in needlesse paine?' a dreamy child of the two.'

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