In Memoriam 3: O Sorrow, Cruel Fellowship

O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,
O Priestess in the vaults of Death,
O sweet and bitter in a breath,
What whispers from thy lying lip?

"The stars," she whispers, "blindly run;
A web is wov'n across the sky;
From out waste places comes a cry,
And murmurs from the dying sun:

"And all the phantom, Nature, stands--
With all the music in her tone,
A hollow echo of my own,--
A hollow form with empty hands."

And shall I take a thing so blind,
Embrace her as my natural good;
Or crush her, like a vice of blood,
Upon the threshold of the mind?

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Alfred Lord Tennyson

Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron Tennyson, FRS was Poet Laureate of Great Britain and Ireland during much of Queen Victoria's reign and remains one of the most popular British poets.  more…

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"In Memoriam 3: O Sorrow, Cruel Fellowship" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 12 Nov. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/995/in-memoriam-3:-o-sorrow,-cruel-fellowship>.

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