To Tennyson Poem by Jonathan Howard

[Based on Tennyson's 'To Virgil'.]

Rome hath fallen; Virgil died, and
Yet his memory shall linger long
By thy words, O Alfred Lord,
Aye, by the words of thy majestic song.

I have read much rotten vile,
And know so little of what’s worth to read;
But mine eyes have known that beauty –
When I saw thy making of his creed.

Many people had their share
Of gratitude and fame, a perfect start;
Few, though, have been worthy of
What thou’rt appreciated in my heart.

Know thee, Tennyson, that I
Am not a writer of thy subtlety;
Yet, prythee, acknowledge that
I have this poem of gratitude for thee.

Laureate, if I could only
Write the words that flowed out of thy pen
And dedicate them to the one who
Gratified the craving of all men –

By writing such a noble poem:
When read, all stand astounded with pure awe,
And say that nought comparéd e’er
To that which none had ever seen before…!

I salute thee, Somersbian;
I, who craved for thee since I began;
Weaver of the softest treasure:
Iv’ry words thou giv’st the race of man.

(Winter 2005-2006.)