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Alfred Tennyson (Альфред Теннисон)


* * *


O, were I loved as I desire to be!
What is there in the great sphere of the earth,
Or range of evil between death and birth,
That I should fear, - if I were loved by thee!
All the inner, all the outer world of pain,
Clear love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert mine;
As I have heard that somewhere in the main
Fresh-water springs come up through bitter brine.
'I were joy, not fear, clasped hand in hand with thee,
To wait for death - mute - careless of all ills,
Apart upon a mountain, though the surge
Of some new deluge from a thousand hills
Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge
Below us, as far on as eye could see. 



Alfred Tennyson's other poems:
  1. Battle Of Brunanburgh
  2. The Higher Pantheism
  3. The Talking Oak
  4. Move Eastward, Happy Earth
  5. O True And Tried


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