Charles Tennyson (1808–1879)

VEXATION waits on passion’s changeful glow,

But th’ intellect may rove a thousand ways,

And yet be calm while fluctuating so:

The dew-drop shakes not to its shifting rays

And transits of soft light. Be bold to choose

This never satiate freedom of delight,

Before the fiery bowl and red carouse,

And task for joy thy soul’s majestic might;

So for the sensual will be rarer need;

So will thy mind a giant force assume,

Strong as the centre of the deep Maelstroom,

When flung into the calm of sightless speed;

So wilt thou scorn on lowlier aims to feed,

And go in glory to a sage’s tomb.