• sammack1126

Canto XCVIII




You leave us: you will see the Rhine,    And those fair hills I sail'd below,    When I was there with him; and go By summer belts of wheat and vine


To where he breathed his latest breath,    That City. All her splendour seems    No livelier than the wisp that gleams On Lethe in the eyes of Death.


Let her great Danube rolling fair    Enwind her isles, unmark'd of me:    I have not seen, I will not see Vienna; rather dream that there,


A treble darkness, Evil haunts    The birth, the bridal; friend from friend    Is oftener parted, fathers bend Above more graves, a thousand wants


Gnarr at the heels of men, and prey    By each cold hearth, and sadness flings    Her shadow on the blaze of kings: And yet myself have heard him say,


That not in any mother town    With statelier progress to and fro    The double tides of chariots flow By park and suburb under brown


Of lustier leaves; nor more content,    He told me, lives in any crowd,    When all is gay with lamps, and loud With sport and song, in booth and tent,


Imperial halls, or open plain;    And wheels the circled dance, and breaks    The rocket molten into flakes Of crimson or in emerald rain.


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

© 2018 by Samantha Mack