I dreamed there would be Spring no
more, |
That Nature’s ancient
power was lost : |
The streets were black
with smoke and frost, |
They chattered trifles at the door :
|
I wandered from the noisy town, |
I found a wood with thorny
boughs : |
I took the thorns to bind
my brows, |
I wore them like a civic crown :
|
I met with scoffs, I met with scorns |
From youth and babe and
hoary hairs : |
They called me in the
public squares |
The fool that wears a crown of thorns :
|
They called me fool, they called me
child : |
I found an angel of the
night ; |
The voice was low, the
look was bright ; |
He looked upon my crown and smiled :
|
He reached the glory of a hand, |
That seemed to touch it
into leaf, |
The voice was not the
voice of grief, |
The words were hard to understand.
|
Alfred,
Lord Tennyson |
Classic Poems |
|
[ The Brook ] [ Blow, Bugle, Blow ] [ Come into the garden Maud ] [ Tithonus ] [ Ulysses ] [ Tears, Idle Tears ] [ The Lady of Shalott ] [ Song of the Lotus-Eaters ] [ The Charge of the Light Brigade ] [ In the Valley of Cauteretz ] [ In Memoriam ] [ The Eagle ] |