Lord Alfred Tennyson
The Voyage
I.
We left behind the painted buoy That tosses at the harbor-mouth; And madly danced our hearts with joy, As fast we fleeted to the South: How fresh was every sight and sound On open main or winding shore! We knew the merry world was round, And we might sail for evermore.
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.
The Spiteful Letter
Here, it is here, the close of the year,
And with it a spiteful letter.
My name in song has done him much wrong,
For himself has done much better
O little bard, is your lot so hard,
If men neglect your pages?
I think not much of yours or of mine,
I hear the roll of the ages.
Rhymes and rhymes in the range of the times!
Are mine for the moment stronger?
Yet hate me not, but abide your lot,
I last but a moment longer.
This faded leaf, our names are as brief;
What room is left for a hater?
Yet the yellow leaf hates the greener leaf,
For it hangs one moment later.
The Sailor Boy
He rose at dawn and, fired with hope,
Shot o’er the seething harbor-bar,
And reach’d the ship and caught the rope,
And whistled to the morning star.
And while he whistled long and loud
He heard a fierce mermaiden cry,
`O boy, tho’ thou art young and proud,
I see the place where thou wilt lie.
`The sands and yeasty surges mix
In caves about the dreary bay,
And on thy ribs the limpet sticks,
And in thy heart the scrawl shall play.’
`Fool,’ he answer’d, `death is sure
To those that stay and those that roam,
But I will nevermore endure
To sit with empty hands at home.
