Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. V. Browning to Rupert Brooke
Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)‘Break, break, break’
B
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish’d hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.