POEM: Break, Break, Break by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (#4 for National Poetry Month)

[kerkevik_2014]

  Finally my internet connection seems stable enough to attempt a post. 

  Having a bad time lately; today has been very fractured; unstable and unsettling. Never have I beenmore grateful have I been for my cats, but I can't lay my hands on a particular poetry book, so I'm going with the poem I first selected before all the internet craziness fouled up my day even more. 

  Not read much Tennyson, so this can justly be said to be the first time I saw this poem; today, or yesterday now. 


  

Break, Break, Break

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Break, break, break,

         On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter

         The thoughts that arise in me.

 

O, well for the fisherman's boy,

         That he shouts with his sister at play!

O, well for the sailor lad,

         That he sings in his boat on the bay!

 

And the stately ships go on

         To their haven under the hill;

But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,

         And the sound of a voice that is still!

 

Break, break, break

         At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead

         Will never come back to me.

 

  May the Goddess watch over all of us, 

  
  
  Kerk TehKek