The slow sweet hours that bring us all things good, [3]
The slow sad hours that bring us all things ill,
And all good things from evil, brought the night
In which we sat together and alone,
And to the want, that hollow'd all the heart,
Gave utterance by the yearning of an eye,
That burn'd upon its object thro' such tears
As flow but once a life.
The slow sad hours that bring us all things ill,
And all good things from evil, brought the night
In which we sat together and alone,
And to the want, that hollow'd all the heart,
Gave utterance by the yearning of an eye,
That burn'd upon its object thro' such tears
As flow but once a life.
Tennyson
Wait, and Love himself will bring
The drooping flower of knowledge changed to fruit
Of wisdom. [2] Wait: my faith is large in Time,
And that which shapes it to some perfect end.
Will some one say, then why not ill for good?
Why took ye not your pastime? To that man
My work shall answer, since I knew the right
And did it; for a man is not as God,
But then most Godlike being most a man. --
So let me think 'tis well for thee and me--
Ill-fated that I am, what lot is mine
Whose foresight preaches peace, my heart so slow
To feel it! For how hard it seem'd to me,
When eyes, love-languid thro' half-tears, would dwell
One earnest, earnest moment upon mine,
Then not to dare to see! when thy low voice,
Faltering, would break its syllables, to keep
My own full-tuned,--hold passion in a leash,
And not leap forth and fall about thy neck,
And on thy bosom, (deep-desired relief! )
Rain out the heavy mist of tears, that weigh'd
Upon my brain, my senses, and my soul!
For love himself took part against himself
To warn us off, and Duty loved of Love--
O this world's curse--beloved but hated--came Like
Death betwixt thy dear embrace and mine,
And crying, "Who is this? behold thy bride,"
She push'd me from thee.
If the sense is hard
To alien ears, I did not speak to these--
No, not to thee, but to thyself in me:
Hard is my doom and thine: thou knowest it all.
Could Love part thus? was it not well to speak,
To have spoken once? It could not but be well.
The slow sweet hours that bring us all things good, [3]
The slow sad hours that bring us all things ill,
And all good things from evil, brought the night
In which we sat together and alone,
And to the want, that hollow'd all the heart,
Gave utterance by the yearning of an eye,
That burn'd upon its object thro' such tears
As flow but once a life. The trance gave way
To those caresses, when a hundred times
In that last kiss, which never was the last,
Farewell, like endless welcome, lived and died.
Then follow'd counsel, comfort and the words
That make a man feel strong in speaking truth;
Till now the dark was worn, and overhead
The lights of sunset and of sunrise mix'd
In that brief night; the summer night, that paused
Among her stars to hear us; stars that hung
Love-charm'd to listen: all the wheels of Time
Spun round in station, but the end had come.
O then like those, who clench [4] their nerves to rush
Upon their dissolution, we two rose,
There-closing like an individual life--
In one blind cry of passion and of pain,
Like bitter accusation ev'n to death,
Caught up the whole of love and utter'd it,
And bade adieu for ever. Live--yet live--
Shall sharpest pathos blight us, knowing all
Life needs for life is possible to will--
Live happy; tend thy flowers; be tended by
My blessing! Should my Shadow cross thy thoughts
Too sadly for their peace, remand it thou
For calmer hours to Memory's darkest hold, [5]
If not to be forgotten--not at once--
Not all forgotten. Should it cross thy dreams,
O might it come like one that looks content,
With quiet eyes unfaithful to the truth,
And point thee forward to a distant light,
Or seem to lift a burthen from thy heart
And leave thee freer, till thou wake refresh'd,
Then when the first low matin-chirp hath grown
Full quire, and morning driv'n her plow of pearl [6]
Far furrowing into light the mounded rack,
Beyond the fair green field and eastern sea.
[Footnote 1: As this passage is a little obscure, it may not be
superfluous to point out that "shout" is a substantive. ]
[Footnote 2: The distinction between "knowledge" and "wisdom" is a
favourite one with Tennyson. See 'In Memoriam', cxiv. ; 'Locksley
Hall', 141, and for the same distinction see Cowper, 'Task',
vi. , 88-99. ]
[Footnote 3: Suggested by Theocritus, 'Id'. , xv. , 104-5. ]
[Footnote 4: 1842 to 1845.
The drooping flower of knowledge changed to fruit
Of wisdom. [2] Wait: my faith is large in Time,
And that which shapes it to some perfect end.
Will some one say, then why not ill for good?
Why took ye not your pastime? To that man
My work shall answer, since I knew the right
And did it; for a man is not as God,
But then most Godlike being most a man. --
So let me think 'tis well for thee and me--
Ill-fated that I am, what lot is mine
Whose foresight preaches peace, my heart so slow
To feel it! For how hard it seem'd to me,
When eyes, love-languid thro' half-tears, would dwell
One earnest, earnest moment upon mine,
Then not to dare to see! when thy low voice,
Faltering, would break its syllables, to keep
My own full-tuned,--hold passion in a leash,
And not leap forth and fall about thy neck,
And on thy bosom, (deep-desired relief! )
Rain out the heavy mist of tears, that weigh'd
Upon my brain, my senses, and my soul!
For love himself took part against himself
To warn us off, and Duty loved of Love--
O this world's curse--beloved but hated--came Like
Death betwixt thy dear embrace and mine,
And crying, "Who is this? behold thy bride,"
She push'd me from thee.
If the sense is hard
To alien ears, I did not speak to these--
No, not to thee, but to thyself in me:
Hard is my doom and thine: thou knowest it all.
Could Love part thus? was it not well to speak,
To have spoken once? It could not but be well.
The slow sweet hours that bring us all things good, [3]
The slow sad hours that bring us all things ill,
And all good things from evil, brought the night
In which we sat together and alone,
And to the want, that hollow'd all the heart,
Gave utterance by the yearning of an eye,
That burn'd upon its object thro' such tears
As flow but once a life. The trance gave way
To those caresses, when a hundred times
In that last kiss, which never was the last,
Farewell, like endless welcome, lived and died.
Then follow'd counsel, comfort and the words
That make a man feel strong in speaking truth;
Till now the dark was worn, and overhead
The lights of sunset and of sunrise mix'd
In that brief night; the summer night, that paused
Among her stars to hear us; stars that hung
Love-charm'd to listen: all the wheels of Time
Spun round in station, but the end had come.
O then like those, who clench [4] their nerves to rush
Upon their dissolution, we two rose,
There-closing like an individual life--
In one blind cry of passion and of pain,
Like bitter accusation ev'n to death,
Caught up the whole of love and utter'd it,
And bade adieu for ever. Live--yet live--
Shall sharpest pathos blight us, knowing all
Life needs for life is possible to will--
Live happy; tend thy flowers; be tended by
My blessing! Should my Shadow cross thy thoughts
Too sadly for their peace, remand it thou
For calmer hours to Memory's darkest hold, [5]
If not to be forgotten--not at once--
Not all forgotten. Should it cross thy dreams,
O might it come like one that looks content,
With quiet eyes unfaithful to the truth,
And point thee forward to a distant light,
Or seem to lift a burthen from thy heart
And leave thee freer, till thou wake refresh'd,
Then when the first low matin-chirp hath grown
Full quire, and morning driv'n her plow of pearl [6]
Far furrowing into light the mounded rack,
Beyond the fair green field and eastern sea.
[Footnote 1: As this passage is a little obscure, it may not be
superfluous to point out that "shout" is a substantive. ]
[Footnote 2: The distinction between "knowledge" and "wisdom" is a
favourite one with Tennyson. See 'In Memoriam', cxiv. ; 'Locksley
Hall', 141, and for the same distinction see Cowper, 'Task',
vi. , 88-99. ]
[Footnote 3: Suggested by Theocritus, 'Id'. , xv. , 104-5. ]
[Footnote 4: 1842 to 1845.
