• sammack1126

Canto LXV




Sweet soul, do with me as thou wilt;    I lull a fancy trouble-tost    With "Love's too precious to be lost, A little grain shall not be spilt."


And in that solace can I sing,    Till out of painful phases wrought    There flutters up a happy thought, Self-balanced on a lightsome wing:


Since we deserved the name of friends,    And thine effect so lives in me,    A part of mine may live in thee And move thee on to noble ends.


-Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam A. H. H., Canto LXV

© 2018 by Samantha Mack