Alfred Lord Tennyson
Alfred Lord Tennyson Poems
|2.||All Things will Die||1/1/2004|
|3.||Charge Of The Light Brigade||1/1/2004|
|5.||Crossing the Bar||1/1/2004|
|7.||‘And ask ye why these sad tears stream?’||1/1/2004|
|8.||Break, break, break||4/8/2010|
|10.||Ask Me No More||1/1/2004|
|11.||Come not when I am dead||1/1/2004|
|12.||The Lady of Shalott (1842)||1/1/2004|
|13.||Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead||1/1/2004|
|17.||Blow, Bugle, Blow||1/1/2004|
|18.||The Lady of Shalott (1832)||1/1/2004|
|20.||Tears, Idle Tears||1/1/2004|
And Willy, my eldest-born, is gone, you say, little Anne?
Ruddy and white, and strong on his legs, he looks like a man.
And Willy's wife has written: she never was over-wise,
Never the wife for Willy: he would n't take my advice.
For, Annie, you see, her father was not the man to save,
Had n't a head to manage, and drank himself into his grave.