George Green reminds us that today is the 200th birthday of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, poet laureate, author of "Ulysses" and "Tithonus," "In Memoriam" and "Idylls of the King," who smoked strong pipe tobacco, had a great ear and was a natural at melodious blank verse, stoutly affirmed Victorian pieties but let a lot of his doubt leak through. (The opinions in the previous sentence are mine.) George thinks that "The Kraken" would serve us well here. --
DLThe Kraken
Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.
(1830)
I'd like to take this opportunity to put in a word for Enoch Arden. In
Tennyson's time it was his most popular poem, and it's the only modern
poem besides Eugene Onegin to be made into a movie. The last two lines
are in The Stuffed Owl, and they belong there, but so what? He needed
a workshop. What's the big deal? The last lines don't ruin the whole
poem.
--George Green