Alfred Lord Tennyson

(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892 / Lincoln / England)

Comments about Alfred Lord Tennyson

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  • Rookie Kevin Straw (6/4/2012 1:33:00 PM)

    “crookéd hands” (2 syllables) is wrong.
    “The man clasped his stick with crookéd hands.” implies hands out of shape.
    But an eagle’s “feet” are flexible to curve and have long curved claws at the end. Tennyson presumably had not seen an eagle’s feet.
    I would not say that an eagle on a mountain is “close to the sun”.
    I am not sure about “from his mountain walls” – the eagle is watching from a crag – what is the point of “walls”? “his mountain wall” would be a better metaphor denoting the perpendicularity of the crag which allows the eagle to fall “like a thunderbolt”. But the rhyme would be lost.
    Can anyone tell me if this method of hunting is used by eagles? Do they not hunt by flying and then stooping on their prey?
    The poet is trying to anthropomorphise the eagle but he does not help the poem by doing so.
    Calling the eagle “he” and giving it “hands” etc. deprives it of its savage nature reminding one of Wind in the Willows!
    But the overall rhetorical power of the poem cannot be denied.

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  • Rookie Nelson P (10/28/2011 12:38:00 PM)

    Hey folks, my band Wrong Side of Dawn wrote a song based on the words to 'Crossing the Bar' by Alfred Lord Tennyson. You can watch the Youtube video at http: //youtu.be/FjY-0p_jE1k or download the song at http: //music.wrongsideofdawn.com/track/crossing-the-bar :) Hope you enjoy it!

  • Rookie Meshack Lebane (7/5/2011 6:19:00 AM)

    Very intersting I wish this simple words were taught at school our poets this days are
    Adicted to bid words which is distort the meaning at times! ! !

  • Rookie Chris Hoare (5/22/2005 11:33:00 AM)

    there seem to be some missing words. Would the web manager please check and correct?

Beauty

Oh, Beauty, passing beauty! sweetest Sweet!
How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs;
I only ask to sit beside thy feet.
Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes,
Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold
My arms about thee—scarcely dare to speak.
And nothing seems to me so wild and bold,
As with one kiss to touch thy blessèd cheek.
Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control

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