Tennyson, again .....

When I decided to start this blog I had no substantial plan in mind.  I thought I would record some poems I remember from childhood, then list others as they occurred to me.  Having written about Lewis Carroll the other day, I thought I should look at Spike Milligan today as another poet who wrote in the nonsense genre, but my subconscious mind is insistent that I need to get down another poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson.  I don't know why Tennyson looms so large in my mind; I wouldn't regard him as a favourite by any means, but I find his words rolling around in my mind more than any other poet.

Anyway, here is Tennyson again:

THE splendour falls on castle walls 
And snowy summits old in story: 
The long light shakes across the lakes, 
And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, 
And thinner, clearer, farther going! 
O sweet and far from cliff and scar 
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! 
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

O love, they die in yon rich sky, 
They faint on hill or field or river: 
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 
And grow for ever and for ever. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 

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