Lord Alfred Tennyson

The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak
And stared with his foot on the prey.

The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak
And stared with his foot on the prey.

My people too were scared with eerie sounds,
A footstep, a low throbbing in the walls.
A read more

My people too were scared with eerie sounds,
A footstep, a low throbbing in the walls.
A noise of falling weights that never fell,
Weird whispers, bells that rang without a hand,
Door-handles turn'd when none was at the door,
And bolted doors that open'd of themselves;
And one betwixt the dark and light had seen
Her, bending by the cradle of her babe.

Some full-breasted swan
That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and read more

Some full-breasted swan
That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood
With swarthy webs.

Their meetings made December June.
Their every parting was to die.

Their meetings made December June.
Their every parting was to die.

That loss is common would not make
My own less bitter, rather more:
Too common! Never morning read more

That loss is common would not make
My own less bitter, rather more:
Too common! Never morning wore
To evening, but some heart did break.