Tennyson, Alfred Lord - Original Text. Ballads and Other Poems , Vol. VI of The Works of Tennyson , ed. The Good, the True, the Pure, the Just Are we devils? Friday, November 12, Sign in. Forgot your password? Get help. Password recovery. Good Study. A trochee forms what is called a foot. Running , throw it , and the other examples each make up a foot.
Octameter consists of a line of poetry with eight feet. The prefix -oct comes from a Greek word meaning eight. Thus, an octagon is a figure with eight sides, an octet is a group with eight people, and an octopus is a sea creature with eight arms.
Catalectic is an adjective referring to an incomplete foot. HERE , and.. WHEN you.. WANT me,.. SOUND u.. PON the.. BU gle Early one morning, a soldier asks his comrades to leave him at Locksley Hall, an estate on an eminence near the sea.
In his youth, he spent many a night at the hall gazing out a window at stars, in particular those in the constellation Orion and in the Pleiades cluster. During the day, he often wandered the beach while thinking of the promises of the future.
They spent many mornings on the moorland listening to the sounds of nature, and they passed many evenings by the sea watching the ships go by. He will treat her little better than his dog or his horse. And she will have to be there to humor him in his moods. The speaker berates Amy for forsaking him, saying she apparently never truly loved him. And the day will come when her husband will die, but not before she has a child who will become the center of her attention.
Such feelings could be dangerous. He would have been content to fall in battle to his enemies. Now, it would be wonderful if he could return to his days of youthful excitement, when he felt alive. The soldier dreams of going to a far-off land in the Orient with no traders and no ships with European flags.
But he relents and says he does not really prefer a rude and barbarous life. He bids farewell to Locksley Hall, hoping that that a thunderbolt will strike it down. Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 't is early morn: Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn.
Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy tracts, And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts. Many a night from yonder ivied casement , ere I went to rest, Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West. Many a night I saw the Pleiades , rising thro' the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid Here about the beach I wander'd, nourishing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time;.
When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed; When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed:. When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see; Saw the Vision of the world and all the wonder that would be. In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast; In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;.
In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should be for one so young, And her eyes on all my motions with a mute observance hung. And I said, "My cousin Amy, speak, and speak the truth to me, Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being sets to thee.
On her pallid cheek and forehead came a colour and a light, As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the northern night. And she turn'd — her bosom shaken with a sudden storm of sighs — All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel eyes —. Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do me wrong"; Saying, "Dost thou love me, cousin?
Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper throng'd my pulses with the fulness of the Spring.
Many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships, And our spirits rush'd together at the touching of the lips. O my cousin, shallow-hearted! O my Amy, mine no more! O the dreary, dreary moorland! O the barren, barren shore! Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs have sung, Puppet to a father's threat, and servile to a shrewish tongue!
Is it well to wish thee happy? Yet it shall be; thou shalt lower to his level day by day, What is fine within thee growing coarse to sympathize with clay.
As the husband is, the wife is: thou art mated with a clown, And the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down. He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
What is this? Go to him, it is thy duty, kiss him, take his hand in thine. For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be;. Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails, Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales ;.
Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rained a ghastly dew From the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue;. Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm, With the standards of the peoples plunging through the thunderstorm;. Till the war-drum throbbed no longer, and the battle-flags were furled In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world. There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe, And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapped in universal law.
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