{"id":91,"date":"2010-11-19T18:30:35","date_gmt":"2010-11-19T23:30:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/?p=91"},"modified":"2010-11-19T18:30:35","modified_gmt":"2010-11-19T23:30:35","slug":"alfred-lord-tennyson","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/2010\/91\/poems\/alfred-lord-tennyson\/","title":{"rendered":"Alfred Lord Tennyson"},"content":{"rendered":"

Tithonus<\/em><\/p>\n

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,
\nThe vapours weep their burthen to the ground,
\nMan comes and tills the field and lies beneath,
\nAnd after many a summer dies the swan.
\nMe only cruel immortality
\nConsumes; I wither slowly in thine arms,
\nHere at the quiet limit of the world,
\nA white-hair’d shadow roaming like a dream
\nThe ever-silent spaces of the East,
\nFar-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn.
\nAlas! for this gray shadow, once a man–
\nSo glorious in his beauty and thy choice,
\nWho madest him thy chosen, that he seem’d
\nTo his great heart none other than a God!
\nI ask’d thee, “Give me immortality.”
\nThen didst thou grant mine asking with a smile,
\nLike wealthy men who care not how they give.
\nBut thy strong Hours indignant work’d their wills,
\nAnd beat me down and marr’d and wasted me,
\nAnd tho’ they could not end me, left me maim’d
\nTo dwell in presence of immortal youth,
\nImmortal age beside immortal youth,
\nAnd all I was in ashes. Can thy love
\nThy beauty, make amends, tho’ even now,
\nClose over us, the silver star, thy guide,
\nShines in those tremulous eyes that fill with tears
\nTo hear me? Let me go: take back thy gift:
\nWhy should a man desire in any way
\nTo vary from the kindly race of men,
\nOr pass beyond the goal of ordinance
\nWhere all should pause, as is most meet for all?<\/p>\n

A soft air fans the cloud apart; there comes
\nA glimpse of that dark world where I was born.
\nOnce more the old mysterious glimmer steals
\nFrom any pure brows, and from thy shoulders pure,
\nAnd bosom beating with a heart renew’d.
\nThy cheek begins to redden thro’ the gloom,
\nThy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to mine,
\nEre yet they blind the stars, and the wild team
\nWhich love thee, yearning for thy yoke, arise,
\nAnd shake the darkness from their loosen’d manes,
\nAnd beat the twilight into flakes of fire.
\nLo! ever thus thou growest beautiful
\nIn silence, then before thine answer given
\nDepartest, and thy tears are on my cheek.<\/p>\n

Why wilt thou ever scare me with thy tears,
\nAnd make me tremble lest a saying learnt,
\nIn days far-off, on that dark earth, be true?
\n“The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.”<\/p>\n

Ay me! ay me! with what another heart
\nIn days far-off, and with what other eyes
\nI used to watch – if I be he that watch’d –
\nThe lucid outline forming round thee; saw
\nThe dim curls kindle into sunny rings;
\nChanged with thy mystic change, and felt my blood
\nGlow with the glow that slowly crimson’d all
\nThy presence and thy portals, while I lay,
\nMouth, forehead, eyelids, growing dewy-warm
\nWith kisses balmier than half-opening buds
\nOf April, and could hear the lips that kiss’d
\nWhispering I knew not what of wild and sweet,
\nLike that strange song I heard Apollo sing,
\nWhile Ilion like a mist rose into towers.<\/p>\n

Yet hold me not for ever in thine East;
\nHow can my nature longer mix with thine?
\nColdly thy rosy shadows bathe me, cold
\nAre all thy lights, and cold my wrinkled feet
\nUpon thy glimmering thresholds, when the steam
\nFloats up from those dim fields about the homes
\nOf happy men that have the power to die,
\nAnd grassy barrows of the happier dead.
\nRelease me, and restore me to the ground;
\nThou seest all things, thou wilt see my grave:
\nThou wilt renew thy beauty morn by morn;
\nI earth in earth forget these empty courts,
\nAnd thee returning on thy silver wheels.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Tithonus The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after many a summer dies the swan. Me only cruel immortality Consumes; I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world, A white-hair’d […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-91","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poems","category-4-id","post-seq-1","post-parity-odd","meta-position-corners","fix"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/91","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=91"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/91\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":92,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/91\/revisions\/92"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=91"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=91"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=91"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}