Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | XXXIV. Compensation I held it truth, with him who sings | By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (18091892) |
| From In Memoriam I HELD it truth, with him who sings | |
To one clear harp in divers tones, | |
That men may rise on stepping-stones | |
Of their dead selves to higher things. | |
|
But who shall so forecast the years | 5 |
And find in loss a gain to match? | |
Or reach a hand thro time to catch | |
The far-off interest of tears? | |
|
Let Love clasp Grief lest both be drownd, | |
Let darkness keep her raven gloss: | 10 |
Ah, sweeter to be drunk with loss, | |
To dance with death, to beat the ground, | |
|
Than that the victor Hours should scorn | |
The long result of love, and boast, | |
Behold the man that loved and lost, | 15 |
But all he was is overworn.
| |
|
This truth came borne with bier and pall, | |
I felt it, when I sorrowd most, | |
Tis better to have loved and lost, | |
Than never to have loved at all. | 20 | | |
|
|