mycompressedboredom

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809 - 1892)

Tears, Idle Tears


Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fance feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!

2 Comments:

  • Why are your posts so depressing? Ming Yang, are you ok?

    By Blogger Lynnie, at 2:18 PM  

  • hey lynn.. i'm fine! maybe i just take pleasure in tormenting my sad side.. hehe..

    By Blogger mingyang, at 12:12 AM  

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