The Beggar Maid

Her arms across her breast she laid;
She was more fair than words can say;
Barefooted came the beggar maid
Before the king Cophetua.
In robe and crown the king stept down,
To meet and greet her on her way,
“It is no wonder,” said the lords,
“She is more beautiful than day.”

And shines the moon in clouded skies,
She in poor attire was seen,
One praised her ankles, one her eyes,
One her dark hair and lovesome mien.
So, sweet a face, such angel grace,
In all that land had never been.
Cophetua sware a royal oath:
“That beggar maid shall be my queen!”
Alfred Lord Tennyson


A Voice By the Cedar Tree

A voice by cedar tree
In the meadow under the Hall!
She is singing an air that is known to me,
A passionate ballad gallant and gay,
A martial song like a trumpet’s call!
Singing of men that in battle array
Ready in heart and ready in hand,
March with banner and bugle and fife
To the death, for their native land.

Maud with her exquisite face,
And wild voice pealing up to the sunny sky,
And feet like sunny gems on an English green,
Maud in the light of her youth and her grace,
Singing of Death, and of Honor that cannot die,
Till I well could weep for a time so sordid and mean,
And myself so languid and base.

Silence, beautiful voice!
Be still, for you only trouble the mind
With a joy in which I cannot rejoice,
A glory I shall not find.
Still! I will hear you no more,
For your sweetness hardly leaves me a choice
But to move to the meadow and fall before
Her feet on the meadow grass, and adore,
Not her, who is neither courtly nor kind,
Not her, not her, but a voice.
Alfred Lord Tennyson


The Dying Swan

The plain was grassy, wild and bare,
Wide, wild, and open to the air,
Which had built up everywhere
An under-roof of doleful gray.
With an inner voice the river ran,
Down it floated a dying swan,
And loudly did lament.
It was the middle of the day.
Ever the weary wind went on,
And took the reed-tops as it went.

Some blue peaks in the distance rose,
And white against the cold-white sky,
Shone out their crowning snows.
One willow over the river wept,
And shook the wave as the wind did sigh,
Above in the wind was the swallow,
Chasing itself at its own wild will,
And far thro' the marish green and still
The tangled water-courses slept,
Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow.

The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full and clear;
And floating about the under-sky,
Prevailing in weakness, the coronach stole
Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear;
But anon her awful jubilant voice,
With a music strange and manifold,
Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold;
As when a mighty people rejoice
With shawms and with cymbals and harps of gold,
And the tumult of their acclaim is rolled
Thro' the open gates of the city afar,
To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star.
And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds,
And the willow-branches hoar and dank,
And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds,
And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bank,
And the silvery marish-flowers that throng
The desolate creeks and pools among,
Were flooded over with eddying song.
Alfred Lord Tennyson

Other Poems by Alfred Lord Tennyson

The Sisters' Shame, Crossing the Bar,
The Poet's Song, The Captain,
Lost Love, Dark House

Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes:

Words, like nature, half reveal
and half conceal the soul within.
Alfred Lord Tennyson

Let the great world spin for ever
down the ringing grooves of change.
Alfred Lord Tennyson

Dreams are true while they last,
and do we not live in dreams?
Alfred Lord Tennyson

Poems by Famous Classical Poets
Love In The City
Don't Cry For Me Argentina
Wedding Customs Traditions and Superstions
Love Romance and Kisses
Romantic Love Quotes
Love and Romance Greeting Cards

The most important thing a father can do
for his children is to love their mother.
- Theodore M. Hesburgh