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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341664" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In Memoriam A. H. H.: 131. O living will that shalt endure</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O living will that shalt endure<br> When all that seems shall suffer shock,<br> Rise in the spiritual rock,<br> Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure,<br> That we may lift from out of dust<br> A voice as unto him that hears,<br> A cry above the conquer'd years<br> To one that with us works, and trust,<br> With faith that comes of self-control,<br> The truths that never can be proved<br> Until we close with all we loved,<br> And all we flow from, soul in soul.------</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O true and tried, so well and long,<br> Demand not thou a marriage lay;<br> In that it is thy marriage day<br> Is music more than any song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Nor have I felt so much of bliss<br> Since first he told me that he loved<br> A daughter of our house; nor proved<br> Since that dark day a day like this; </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Tho' I since then have number'd o'er<br> Some thrice three years: they went and came,<br> Remade the blood and changed the frame,<br> And yet is love not less, but more;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> No longer caring to embalm<br> In dying songs a dead regret,<br> But like a statue solid-set,<br> And moulded in colossal calm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Regret is dead, but love is more<br> Than in the summers that are flown,<br> For I myself with these have grown<br> To something greater than before;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Which makes appear the songs I made<br> As echoes out of weaker times,<br> As half but idle brawling rhymes,<br> The sport of random sun and shade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But where is she, the bridal flower,<br> That must be made a wife ere noon?<br> She enters, glowing like the moon<br> Of Eden on its bridal bower:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> On me she bends her blissful eyes<br> And then on thee; they meet thy look<br> And brighten like the star that shook<br> Betwixt the palms of paradise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O when her life was yet in bud,<br> He too foretold the perfect rose.<br> For thee she grew, for thee she grows<br> For ever, and as fair as good.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And thou art worthy; full of power;<br> As gentle; liberal-minded, great,<br> Consistent; wearing all that weight<br> Of learning lightly like a flower.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But now set out: the noon is near,<br> And I must give away the bride;<br> She fears not, or with thee beside<br> And me behind her, will not fear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> For I that danced her on my knee,<br> That watch'd her on her nurse's arm,<br> That shielded all her life from harm<br> At last must part with her to thee;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Now waiting to be made a wife,<br> Her feet, my darling, on the dead;<br> Their pensive tablets round her head,<br> And the most living words of life</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Breathed in her ear. The ring is on,<br> The &quot;wilt thou&quot; answer'd, and again<br> The &quot;wilt thou&quot; ask'd, till out of twain<br> Her sweet &quot;I will&quot; has made you one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Now sign your names, which shall be read,<br> Mute symbols of a joyful morn,<br> By village eyes as yet unborn;<br> The names are sign'd, and overhead</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Begins the clash and clang that tells<br> The joy to every wandering breeze;<br> The blind wall rocks, and on the trees<br> The dead leaf trembles to the bells.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O happy hour, and happier hours<br> Await them. Many a merry face<br> Salutes them--maidens of the place,<br> That pelt us in the porch with flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O happy hour, behold the bride<br> With him to whom her hand I gave.<br> They leave the porch, they pass the grave<br> That has to-day its sunny side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> To-day the grave is bright for me,<br> For them the light of life increased,<br> Who stay to share the morning feast,<br> Who rest to-night beside the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Let all my genial spirits advance<br> To meet and greet a whiter sun;<br> My drooping memory will not shun<br> The foaming grape of eastern France.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> It circles round, and fancy plays,<br> And hearts are warm'd and faces bloom,<br> As drinking health to bride and groom<br> We wish them store of happy days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Nor count me all to blame if I<br> Conjecture of a stiller guest,<br> Perchance, perchance, among the rest,<br> And, tho' in silence, wishing joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> But they must go, the time draws on,<br> And those white-favour'd horses wait;<br> They rise, but linger; it is late;<br> Farewell, we kiss, and they are gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> A shade falls on us like the dark<br> From little cloudlets on the grass,<br> But sweeps away as out we pass<br> To range the woods, to roam the park,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Discussing how their courtship grew,<br> And talk of others that are wed,<br> And how she look'd, and what he said,<br> And back we come at fall of dew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Again the feast, the speech, the glee,<br> The shade of passing thought, the wealth<br> Of words and wit, the double health,<br> The crowning cup, the three-times-three,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> And last the dance,--till I retire:<br> Dumb is that tower which spake so loud,<br> And high in heaven the streaming cloud,<br> And on the downs a rising fire:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> And rise, O moon, from yonder down,<br> Till over down and over dale<br> All night the shining vapour sail<br> And pass the silent-lighted town,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> The white-faced halls, the glancing rills,<br> And catch at every mountain head,<br> And o'er the friths that branch and spread<br> Their sleeping silver thro' the hills;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> And touch with shade the bridal doors,<br> With tender gloom the roof, the wall;<br> And breaking let the splendour fall<br> To spangle all the happy shores</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> By which they rest, and ocean sounds,<br> And, star and system rolling past,<br> A soul shall draw from out the vast<br> And strike his being into bounds,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> And, moved thro' life of lower phase,<br> Result in man, be born and think,<br> And act and love, a closer link<br> Betwixt us and the crowning race</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Of those that, eye to eye, shall look<br> On knowledge; under whose command<br> Is Earth and Earth's, and in their hand<br> Is Nature like an open book;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> No longer half-akin to brute,<br> For all we thought and loved and did,<br> And hoped, and suffer'd, is but seed<br> Of what in them is flower and fruit;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Whereof the man, that with me trod<br> This planet, was a noble type<br> Appearing ere the times were ripe,<br> That friend of mine who lives in God,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> That God, which ever lives and loves,<br> One God, one law, one element,<br> And one far-off divine event,<br> To which the whole creation moves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Lord+Tennyson">Alfred Lord Tennyson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341664" data-title="In Memoriam A. H. H.: 131. O living will that shalt endure de Alfred Lord Tennyson" data-description="O living will that shalt endure
 When all that seems shall suffer shock,
 Rise in the spiritual rock,
 Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure,
 That we may lift from out of dust
 A voice as unto him that hears,
 A cry above the conquer'd years
 T..."></div>
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