O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,
O Priestess in the vaults of Death,
O sweet and bitter in a breath,
What whispers from thy lying lip?
“The stars,” she whispers, “blindly run;
A web is wov’n across the sky;
From out waste places comes a cry,
And murmurs from the dying sun:
“And all the phantom, Nature, stands–
With all the music in her tone,
A hollow echo of my own,–
A hollow form with empty hands.”
And shall I take a thing so blind,
Embrace her as my natural good;
Or crush her, like a vice of blood,
Upon the threshold of the mind?
(Lord Alfred Tennyson)
More Poetry from Lord Alfred Tennyson:
Lord Alfred Tennyson Poems based on Topics: Death & Dying, Mind, Sadness, Cry, Nature, Music, Running, Vice & Virtue- Crossing The Bar (Lord Alfred Tennyson Poems)
- The Grandmother (Lord Alfred Tennyson Poems)
- Spring (Lord Alfred Tennyson Poems)
- Of Old Sat Freedom (Lord Alfred Tennyson Poems)
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: The Prelude (Lord Alfred Tennyson Poems)
- The Talking Oak (Lord Alfred Tennyson Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Mind Poems, Sadness Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Nature Poems, Cry Poems, Music Poems, Running Poems, Vice & Virtue PoemsBased on Keywords: priestess, wov
- The Old Sheperd's Recollections (Matilda Betham Poems)
- Aechdeacon Barbour (John Greenleaf Whittier Poems)
- The Art Of Preserving Health. Book IV (John Armstrong Poems)
- Poem For The Two Hundred And Fiftieth Anniversary Of The Founding Of Harvard College (Oliver Wendell Holmes Poems)
- Among the Hills (John Greenleaf Whittier Poems)