from "In Memoriam" [by Alfred, Lord Tennyson]

from "In Memoriam"

 

Dark house, by which once more I stand

         Here in the long unlovely street,

         Doors, where my heart was used to beat

So quickly, waiting for a hand,

 

A hand that can be clasp'd no more—

         Behold me, for I cannot sleep,

         And like a guilty thing I creep

At earliest morning to the door.

 

He is not here; but far away

         The noise of life begins again,

         And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain

On the bald street breaks the blank day.

Comments

[Ken Lauter]

I suppose In Memoriam is pretty much neglected today, but it's a masterpiece of the intersection of science, poetry, and the grief of many 19th century folk upon recognition of the loss of an afterlife and "immortality." Tennyson's technical gift was immense, as demonstrated in these stanzas.

I first read the entire poem in one sitting in the early 1970s-- and was dazed for the better part of a week