Baron Alfred Tennyson Tennyson

“ If Enoch comes—but Enoch will not come— Yet wait a year, a year is not so long: Surely I shall be wiser in a year: O wait a little!' Philip sadly said 'Annie, as I have waited all my life I well may wait a little.' 'Nay' she cried 'I am bound: you have my promise—in a year: Will you not bide your year as I bide mine?' And Philip answer'd 'I will bide my year.' Here both were mute, till Philip glancing up Beheld the dead flame of the fallen day Pass from the Danish barrow overhead; Then fearing night and chill for Annie rose, And sent his voice beneath him thro' the wood. ”

“ Then came a change, as all things human change. Ten miles to northward of the narrow port Open'd a larger haven: thither used Enoch at times to go by land or sea; And once when there, and clambering on a mast In harbor, by mischance he slipt and fell: A limb was broken when they lifted him; And while he lay recovering there, his wife Bore him another son, a sickly one: Another hand crept too across his trade Taking her bread and theirs: and on him fell, Altho' a grave and staid God-fearing man, Yet lying thus inactive, doubt and gloom. ”

“ I think I have not three days more to live; I am the man.' At which the woman gave A half-incredulous, half-hysterical cry. 'You Arden, you! nay,—sure he was a foot Higher than you be.' Enoch said again 'My God has bow'd me down to what I am; My grief and solitude have broken me; Nevertheless, know that I am he Who married—but that name has twice been changed— I married her who married Philip Ray. Sit, listen.' Then he told her of his voyage, His wreck, his lonely life, his coming back, His gazing in on Annie, his resolve, And how he kept it. ”

“ And God, not man, is the Judge of us all when life shall cease; And in this Book, little Annie, the message is one of Peace. XXV. And age is a time of peace, so it be free from pain, And happy has been my life; but I would not live it again. I seem to be tired a little, that's all, and long for rest; Only at your age, Annie, I could have wept with the best. XXVI. So Willy has gone, my beauty, my eldest-born, my flower; But how can I weep for Willy, he has but gone for an hour,— Gone for a minute, my son, from this room into the next ”

“ THE RINGLET. 'Your ringlets, your ringlets, That look so golden-gay, If you will give me one, but one, To kiss it night and day, Then never chilling touch of Time Will turn it silver-gray; And then shall I know it is all true gold To flame and sparkle and stream as of old, Till all the comets in heaven are cold, And all her stars decay.' 'Then take it, love, and put it by; This cannot change, nor yet can I.' 2. 'My ringlet, my ringlet, That art so golden-gay, Now never chilling touch of Time Can turn thee silver-gray; And a lad may wink, and a girl may hint, And a fool may say his say ”

“ But she loved Enoch; tho' she knew it not, And would if ask'd deny it. Enoch set A purpose evermore before his eyes, To hoard all savings to the uttermost, To purchase his own boat, and make a home For Annie: and so prosper'd that at last A luckier or a bolder fisherman, A carefuller in peril, did not breathe For leagues along that breaker-beaten coast Than Enoch. ”

“ II. Warm broke the breeze against the brow, Dry sang the tackle, sang the sail: The Lady's-head upon the prow Caught the shrill salt, and sheer'd the gale. The broad seas swell'd to meet the keel, And swept behind: so quick the run, We felt the good ship shake and reel, We seem'd to sail into the Sun! III. How oft we saw the Sun retire, And burn the threshold of the night, Fall from his Ocean-lane of fire, And sleep beneath his pillar'd light! How oft the purple-skirted robe Of twilight slowly downward drawn, As thro' the slumber of the globe Again we dash'd into the dawn! ”

“ Thou wilt not gash thy flesh for HIM; for thine Fares richly, in fine linen, not a hair Ruffled upon the scarfskin, even while The deathless ruler of thy dying house Is wounded to the death that cannot die; And tho' thou numberest with the followers Of One who cried 'leave all and follow me.' Thee therefore with His light about thy feet, Thee with His message ringing in thine ears, Thee shall thy brother man, the Lord from Heaven, Born of a village girl, carpenter's son, Wonderful, Prince of peace, the Mighty God, Count the more base idolater of the two ”

“ For I am well-to-do—no kin, no care, No burthen, save my care for you and yours: And we have known each other all our lives, And I have loved you longer than you know.' Then answer'd Annie; tenderly she spoke: 'You have been as God's good angel in our house. God bless you for it, God reward you for it, Philip, with something happier than myself. Can one live twice? can you be ever loved As Enoch was? ”

“ But ours he swore were all diseased. 'A ship of fools' he shriek'd in spite, 'A ship of fools' he sneer'd and wept. And overboard one stormy night He cast his body, and on we swept. XI. And never sail of ours was furl'd, Nor anchor dropt at eve or morn; We loved the glories of the world, But laws of nature were our scorn; For blasts would rise and rave and cease, But whence were those that drove the sail Across the whirlwind's heart of peace, And to and thro' the counter-gale? ”

“ But I wept like a child that day, for the babe had fought for his life. XVII. His dear little face was troubled, as if with anger or pain: I look'd at the still little body—his trouble had all been in vain. For Willy I cannot weep, I shall see him another morn: But I wept like a child for the child that was dead before he was born. XVIII. But he cheer'd me, my good man, for he seldom said me nay: Kind, like a man, was he; like a man, too, would have his way: Never jealous—not he: we had many a happy year ”

“ A grasp Having the warmth and muscle of the heart, A childly way with children, and a laugh Ringing like proved golden coinage true, Were no false passport to that easy realm, Where once with Leolin at her side the girl, Nursing a child, and turning to the warmth The tender pink five-beaded baby-soles, Heard the good mother softly whisper 'Bless, God bless 'em; marriages are made in Heaven.' A flash of semi-jealousy clear'd it to her. ”

“ Then from his height and loneliness of grief Bore down in flood, and dash'd his angry heart Against the desolations of the world. Never since our bad earth became one sea, Which rolling o'er the palaces of the proud, And all but those who knew the living God— Eight that were left to make a purer world— When since had flood, fire, earthquake, thunder wrought Such waste and havoc as the idolatries, Which from the low light of mortality Shot up their shadows to the Heaven of Heavens, And worshipt their own darkness as the Highest? ”

“ Till after our good parents past away Watching your growth, I seem'd again to grow. Leolin, I almost sin in envying you: The very whitest lamb in all my fold Loves you: I know her: the worst thought she has Is whiter even than her pretty hand: She must prove true: for, brother, where two fight The strongest wins, and truth and love are strength, And you are happy: let her parents be.' But Leolin cried out the more upon them— Insolent, brainless, heartless! ”

“ Last, some low fever ranging round to spy The weakness of a people or a house, Like flies that haunt a wound, or deer, or men, Or almost all that is, hurting the hurt— Save Christ as we believe him—found the girl And flung her down upon a couch of fire, Where careless of the household faces near, And crying upon the name of Leolin, She, and with her the race of Aylmer, past. Star to star vibrates light: may soul to soul Strike thro' a finer element of her own? ”

“ Thus earn'd a scanty living for himself: Yet since he did but labor for himself, Work without hope, there was not life in it Whereby the man could live; and as the year Roll'd itself round again to meet the day When Enoch had return'd, a languor came Upon him, gentle sickness, gradually Weakening the man, till he could do no more, But kept the house, his chair, and last his bed. And Enoch bore his weakness cheerfully. ”

“ What does little baby say, In her bed at peep of day? Baby says, like little birdie, Let me rise and fly away. Baby, sleep a little longer, Till the little limbs are stronger. If she sleeps a little longer, Baby too shall fly away. 'She sleeps: let us too, let all evil, sleep. He also sleeps—another sleep than ours. He can do no more wrong: forgive him, dear, And I shall sleep the sounder!' Then the man, 'His deeds yet live, the worst is yet to come. Yet let your sleep for this one night be sound: I do forgive him!' 'Thanks, my love,' she said, 'Your own will be the sweeter,' and they slept. ”

“ The babe shall lead the lion. Surely now The wilderness shall blossom as the rose. Crown thyself, worm, and worship thine own lusts!— No coarse and blockish God of acreage Stands at thy gate for thee to grovel to— Thy God is far diffused in noble groves And princely halls, and farms, and flowing lawns, And heaps of living gold that daily grow, And title-scrolls and gorgeous heraldries. ”

“ But the tongue is a fire as you know, my dear, the tongue is a fire. VIII. And the parson made it his text that week, and he said likewise, That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies, That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight. IX. And Willy had not been down to the farm for a week and a day; And all things look'd half-dead, tho' it was the middle of May. Jenny, to slander me, who knew what Jenny had been! But soiling another, Annie, will never make oneself clean. ”

“ Now I see My dream was Life; the woman honest Work; And my poor venture but a fleet of glass Wreck'd on a reef of visionary gold.' 'Nay,' said the kindly wife to comfort him, 'You raised your arm, you tumbled down and broke The glass with little Margaret's medicine it it; And, breaking that, you made and broke your dream: A trifle makes a dream, a trifle breaks.' 'No trifle,' groan'd the husband; 'yesterday I met him suddenly in the street, and ask'd That which I ask'd the woman in my dream. ”

“ Can thy love, Thy beauty, make amends, tho' even now, Close over us, the silver star, thy guide, Shines in those tremulous eyes that fill with tears To hear me? Let me go: take back thy gift: Why should a man desire in any way To vary from the kindly race of men, Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance Where all should pause, as is most meet for all? A soft air fans the cloud apart ”

“ For sure no gladlier does the stranded wreck See thro' the gray skirts of a lifting squall The boat that bears the hope of life approach To save the life despair'd of, than he saw Death dawning on him, and the close of all. For thro' that dawning gleam'd a kindlier hope On Enoch thinking 'after I am gone, Then may she learn I loved her to the last.' He call'd aloud for Miriam Lane and said 'Woman, I have a secret—only swear, Before I tell you—swear upon the book Not to reveal it, till you see me dead.' 'Dead' clamor'd the good woman 'hear him talk! ”

“ O ye, the wise who think, the wise who reign, From growing commerce loose her latest chain, And let the fair white-winged peacemaker fly To happy havens under all the sky, And mix the seasons and the golden hours, Till each man finds his own in all men's good, And all men work in noble brotherhood, Breaking their mailed fleets and armed towers, And ruling by obeying Nature's powers, And gathering all the fruits of peace and crown'd with all her flowers. ”

“ Should he not trade himself out yonder? go This voyage more than once? yea twice or thrice— As oft as needed—last, returning rich, Become the master of a larger craft, With fuller profits lead an easier life, Have all his pretty young ones educated, And pass his days in peace among his own. Thus Enoch in his heart determined all: Then moving homeward came on Annie pale, Nursing the sickly babe, her latest-born. ”