Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.
By Alfred Lord Tennyson (18091892)On a Mourner
NATURE, so far as in her lies, | |
Imitates God, and turns her face | |
To every land beneath the skies, | |
Counts nothing that she meets with base, | |
But lives and loves in every place; | 5 |
Fills out the homely quickset-screens, | |
And makes the purple lilac ripe, | |
Steps from her airy hill, and greens | |
The swamp, where humm’d the dropping snipe, | |
With moss and braided marish-pipe; | 10 |
And on thy heart a finger lays, | |
Saying, “Beat quicker, for the time | |
Is pleasant, and the woods and ways | |
Are pleasant, and the beech and lime | |
Put forth and feel a gladder clime.” | 15 |
And murmurs of a deeper voice, | |
Going before to some far shrine, | |
Teach that sick heart the stronger choice, | |
Till all thy life one way incline, | |
With one wide will that closes thine. | 20 |
And when the zoning eve has died | |
Where yon dark valleys wind forlorn, | |
Come Hope and Memory, spouse and bride, | |
From out the borders of the morn, | |
With that fair child betwixt them born. | 25 |
And when no mortal motion jars | |
The blackness round the tombing sod, | |
Thro’ silence and the trembling stars | |
Comes Faith from tracts no feet have trod, | |
And Virtue, like a household god | 30 |
Promising empire; such as those | |
Once heard at dead of night to greet | |
Troy’s wandering prince, so that he rose | |
With sacrifice, while all the fleet | |
Had rest by stony hills of Crete. | 35 |