Samantha Mack

'Tis well; 'tis something; we may stand    Where he in English earth is laid,    And from his ashes may be made The violet of his native...

Thou comest, much wept for: such a breeze    Compell'd thy canvas, and my prayer    Was as the whisper of an air To breathe thee over...

What words are these have fall'n from me?    Can calm despair and wild unrest    Be tenants of a single breast, Or sorrow such a...

To-night the winds begin to rise    And roar from yonder dropping day:    The last red leaf is whirl'd away, The rooks are blown about...

If one should bring me this report,    That thou hadst touch'd the land to-day,    And I went down unto the quay, And found thee lying...

Tears of the widower, when he sees    A late-lost form that sleep reveals,    And moves his doubtful arms, and feels Her place is empty,...

Lo, as a dove when up she springs    To bear thro' Heaven a tale of woe,    Some dolorous message knit below The wild pulsation of her...

Calm is the morn without a sound,    Calm as to suit a calmer grief,    And only thro' the faded leaf The chestnut pattering to the...

I hear the noise about thy keel;    I hear the bell struck in the night:    I see the cabin-window bright; I see the sailor at the...

Fair ship, that from the Italian shore    Sailest the placid ocean-plains    With my lost Arthur's loved remains, Spread thy full wings,...

A happy lover who has come To look on her that loves him well, Who 'lights and rings the gateway bell, And learns her gone and far from...

Dark house, by which once more I stand   Here in the long unlovely street,   Doors, where my heart was used to beat So quickly, waiting...

One writes, that "Other friends remain,"   That "Loss is common to the race"—   And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well...

Sometimes hold it half a sin   To put in words the grief I feel;   For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the Soul within....

To Sleep I give my powers away;   My will is bondsman to the dark;   I sit within a helmless bark, And with my heart I muse and say: O...

O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,   O Priestess in the vaults of Death,   O sweet and bitter in a breath, What whispers from thy lying lip?...

Old Yew, which graspest at the stones   That name the under-lying dead,   Thy fibres net the dreamless head, Thy roots are wrapt about...

I held it truth, with him who sings   To one clear harp in divers tones,   That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to...

Over the course of the next ten weeks, I will be creating 100+ drawings that illustrate Alfred Lord Tennyson’s famous poem In Memoriam A....