I Know her by her angry air, Her brightblack eyes, her brightblack hair, Her rapid laughters wild and shrill, As laughter of the woodpecker From the bosom of a hill. 'Tis Kate—she sayeth what she will; For Kate hath an unbridled tongue, Clear as the twanging of a harp. Her heart is like a throbbing star. Like a new bow, and bright and sharp My woman-soldier, gallant Kate, As pure and true as blades of steel. Kate saith "the world is void of might". For in a moment I would pierce In dreaming of my lady's eyes. Oh! Kate loves well the bold and fierce ; She cannot find a fitting mate. SONNET Written on hearing of the outbreak of the Polish Insurrection. Blow ye the trumpet, gather from afar The hosts to battle: be not bought and sold. Boleslas drove the Pomeranian. POLAND Reprinted without alteration in 1872, except the removal of italics in "now," among the Early Sonnets. How long, O God, shall men be ridden down, Oppress the region ?" Us, O Just and Good, Forgive, who smiled when she was torn in three ; Us, who stand now, when we should aid the right A matter to be wept with tears of blood! TO Reprinted without alteration as first of the Early Sonnets in 1872; subsequently in the twelfth line "That tho' " was substituted for "Altho'," and the last line was altered to— 'And either lived in cither's heart and speech," and "hath was not italicised. As when with downcast eyes we muse and brood, To lapse far back in some confused dream If one but speaks or hems or stirs his chair, So that we say, All this hath been, I know not when or where ". Altho' I knew not in what time or place, Methought that I had often met with you, And each had lived in the other's mind and speech. O DARLING ROOM I O Darling room, my heart's delight, No little room so warm and bright, II For I the Nonnenwerth have seen, III Yet never did there meet my sight, A little room so exquisite, With two such couches soft and white; TO CHRISTOPHER NORTH You did late review my lays, You did mingle blame and praise, When I learnt from whom it came, I forgave you all the blame, I could not forgive the praise, THE SKIPPING ROPE This silly poem was first published in the edition of 1843, and was retained unaltered till 1851, when it was finally suppressed. Sure never yet was Antelope Could skip so lightly by, Stand nit, or else my skipping-rope Will hit you in the eye. How lightly whirls the skipping-rope! How fairy-like you fly! Go, get you gone, you muse and mope— Nay, dearest, teach me how to hope, Or tell me how to die. There, take it, take my skipping-rope, And hang yourself thereby. TIMBUCTOO A POEM which obtained THE CHANCELLOR'S MEDAL at the Cambridge Commencement M.DCCCXXIX by A. Tennyson Of Trinity College. Printed in the Cambridge Chronicle and Journal for Friday, loth July, 1829. and at the University Press by James Smith, among the Prolusiones Academicæ Pramiis annuls dignatæ, et in Curia Cantabrigiensi Recitatæ Comitiis Maximis A.D. M.DCCC.XX1X. Reprinted in an edition of the Cambridge Prize Poems from 1813 to 1858 inclusive, by Messrs. Macmillan in 1859, but without any alteration, except in punctuation and the substitution of small letters for capitals where the change was appropriate; and again in 1893 in the appendix to the reprint of the Poems by Two Brothers. Deep in that lion-haunted island lies I STOOD upon the Mountain which o'erlooks Parts Afric from green Europe, when the Sun Had fill'd below th' Atlantick, and above The silent Heavens were blench'd with faery light, -CHAPMAN. Flowing Southward, and the chasms of deep, deep blue Slumber'd unfathomable, and the stars Were flooded over with clear glory and pale. I gaz'd upon the sheeny coast beyond, There where the Giant of old Time infixed The limits of his prowess, pillars high Long time eras'd from Earth: even as the sea As air is th' life of flame: and thou wert then A center'd glory-circled Memory, Divinest Atalantis, whom the waves Have buried deep, and thou of later name |