LORD TENNYSON

Calm and deep peace in this wide air,

These leaves that redden to the fall; And in my heart, if calm at all,

If any calm, a calm despair:

Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,

And waves that sway themselves in rest, And dead calm in that noble breast

Which heaves but with the heaving deep.

��IV

To-night the winds begin to rise

And roar from yonder dropping day: The last red leaf is whirl'd away,

The rooks are blown about the skies;

The forest crack'd, the waters curl'd, The cattle huddled on the lea; And wildly dash'd on tower and tree

The sunbeam strikes along the world:

And but for fancies, which aver

That all thy motions gently pass Athwart a plane of molten glass,

I scarce could brook the strain and stir

That makes the barren branches loud; And but for fear it is not so, The wild unrest that lives in woe

Would dote and pore on yonder cloud

That rises upward always higher,

And onward drags a labouring breast And topples round the dreary west,

A looming bastion fringed with fire.

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