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<\/h2>\n<\/h2>\nby Alfred Lord Tennyson<\/p>\n
XXVIII<\/strong> Four voices of four hamlets round, Each voice four changes on the wind, This year I slept and woke with pain, But they my troubled spirit rule, XXIX<\/strong> Which brings no more a welcome guest Yet go, and while the holly boughs Old sisters of a day gone by, XXX<\/strong> At our old pastimes in the hall We paused: the winds were in the beech: Then echo-like our voices rang; We ceased: a gentler feeling crept Our voices took a higher range; Rapt from the fickle and the frail Rise, happy morn, rise holy morn, LXXVI<\/strong> The yule-clog sparkled keen with frost, As in the winters left behind, Who show\u2019d a token of distress? O last regret, Regret can die! CIII<\/strong> Our father\u2019s dust is left alone No more shall wayward grief abuse Let cares that petty shadows cast, But let no footstep beat the floor, Be neither song, nor game, nor feast, Of rising worlds by yonder wood. <\/p>\n Alfred Lord Tennyson is considered one of the greatest English poets of the Victorian era. He was born in 1809 in England. His early poems were largely influenced by the times\u2014his famous poem “The Lady of Shalott” is set in King Arthur’s Camelot, showing his early interest in medieval themes. Tennyson continued writing and expanding his catalog of poems. In 1850, he was appointed the Poet Laureate of Great Britain and Ireland. Two years later, upon the death of William Wordsworth, Tennyson officially assumed the role of Poet Laureate. Some of his most famous poems are ‘In Memoriam’, ‘Idylls of the King’, and ‘Tithonus’. While Tennyson garnered fame and accolades in his home country, his reputation eventually spread across the globe. Much of his poetry focused on grief, loss, doubt, and faith. Despite periods of deep sadness, Tennyson maintained an unwavering faith throughout his life. His poems explore complex themes in mystical ways, allowing readers to uncover new interpretations with each reading. Though he passed in 1892, Tennyson’s works continue to inspire and connect deeply with readers over 150 years later.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" from: In Memoriam A.H.H. by Alfred Lord Tennyson XXVIII The time draws near the birth of Christ: The moon is hid; the night is still; The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist. Four voices of four hamlets round, From far and near, on mead and moor, Swell out and…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":10209,"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,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[429,40],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10207","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-christmas-poems","category-tennyson"],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10207","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10207"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10207\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/10209"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10207"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10207"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10207"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nThe time draws near the birth of Christ:
\nThe moon is hid; the night is still;
\nThe Christmas bells from hill to hill
\nAnswer each other in the mist.<\/p>\n
\nFrom far and near, on mead and moor,
\nSwell out and fail, as if a door
\nWere shut between me and the sound:<\/p>\n
\nThat now dilate, and now decrease,
\nPeace and goodwill, goodwill and peace,
\nPeace and goodwill, to all mankind.<\/p>\n
\nI almost wish\u2019d no more to wake,
\nAnd that my hold on life would break
\nBefore I heard those bells again:{46}<\/p>\n
\nFor they controll\u2019d me when a boy;
\nThey bring me sorrow touch\u2019d with joy,
\nThe merry merry bells of Yule.<\/p>\n
\nWith such compelling cause to grieve
\nAs daily vexes household peace,
\nAnd chains regret to his decease,
\nHow dare we keep our Christmas-eve;<\/p>\n
\nTo enrich the threshold of the night
\nWith shower\u2019d largess of delight,
\nIn dance and song and game and jest.<\/p>\n
\nEntwine the cold baptismal font,
\nMake one wreath more for Use and Wont
\nThat guard the portals of the house;<\/p>\n
\nGray nurses, loving nothing new;
\nWhy should they miss their yearly due
\nBefore their time? They too will die.<\/p>\n
\nWith trembling fingers did we weave
\nThe holly round the Christmas hearth;
\nA rainy cloud possess\u2019d the earth,
\nAnd sadly fell our Christmas-eve.<\/p>\n
\nWe gambol\u2019d, making vain pretence
\nOf gladness, with an awful sense
\nOf one mute Shadow watching all.<\/p>\n
\nWe heard them sweep the winter land;
\nAnd in a circle hand-in-hand
\nSat silent, looking each at each.<\/p>\n
\nWe sung, tho\u2019 every eye was dim,
\nA merry song we sang with him
\nLast year: impetuously we sang:{49}<\/p>\n
\nUpon us: surely rest is meet:
\n\u2018They rest,\u2019 we said, \u2018their sleep is sweet,\u2019
\nAnd silence follow\u2019d, and we wept.<\/p>\n
\nOnce more we sang: \u2018They do not die
\nNor lose their mortal sympathy,
\nNor change to us, although they change;<\/p>\n
\nWith gather\u2019d power, yet the same,
\nPierces the keen seraphic flame
\nFrom orb to orb, from veil to veil.<\/p>\n
\nDraw forth the cheerful day from night:
\nO Father! touch the east, and light
\nThe light that shone when Hope was born.\u2019<\/p>\n
\nAgain at Christmas did we weave
\nThe holly round the Christmas hearth,
\nThe silent snow possess\u2019d the earth,
\nAnd calmly fell our Christmas-eve;<\/p>\n
\nNo wing of wind the region swept,
\nBut over all things brooding slept
\nThe quiet sense of something lost.<\/p>\n
\nAgain our ancient games had place,
\nThe mimic pictures breathing grace,
\nAnd dance and song and hoodman-blind.<\/p>\n
\nNo single tear, no type of pain:
\nO sorrow, then can sorrow wane?
\nO grief, can grief be changed to less?{107}<\/p>\n
\nNo\u2014mixt with all this mystic frame,
\nHer deep relations are the same,
\nBut with long use her tears are dry.<\/p>\n
\nThis holly by the cottage-eave,
\nTo night, ungather\u2019d, shall it stand:
\nWe live within the stranger\u2019s land,
\nAnd strangely falls our Christmas eve.<\/p>\n
\nAnd silent under other snows:
\nThere in due time the woodbine blows,
\nThe violet comes, but we are gone.<\/p>\n
\nThe genial hour with mask and mime;
\nFor change of place, like growth of time,
\nHas broke the bond of dying use.<\/p>\n
\nBy which our lives are chiefly proved,
\nA little spare the night I loved,
\nAnd hold it solemn to the past.{161}<\/p>\n
\nNor bowl of wassail mantle warm;
\nFor who would keep an ancient form
\nThrough which the spirit breathes no more?<\/p>\n
\nNor harp be touch\u2019d, nor flute be blown;
\nNo dance, no motion, save alone
\nWhat lightens in the lucid east<\/p>\n
\nLong sleeps the summer in the seed;
\nRun out your measur\u2019d arcs, and lead
\nThe closing cycle rich in good.<\/p>\n