LIVING ENGLISH POETS

FREDERICK TENNYSON

Born 1807

THE BLACKBIRD

How sweet the harmonies of Afternoon!
The Blackbird sings along the sunny breeze
His ancient song of leaves, and Summer boon;
Rich breath of hayfields streams thro' whispering

trees;

And birds of morning trim their bustling wings,
And listen fondly-while the Blackbird sings.

How soft the lovelight of the West reposes
On this green valley's cheery solitude,

B

On the trim cottage with its screen of roses,

On the gray belfry with its ivy hood,

And murmuring mill-race, and the wheel that flings Its bubbling freshness-while the Blackbird sings.

III

The very dial on the village church

Seems as 'twere dreaming in a dozy rest;
The scribbled benches underneath the porch

Bask in the kindly welcome of the West;
But the broad casements of the old Three Kings
Blaze like a furnace-while the Blackbird sings.

IV

And there beneath the immemorial elm

Three rosy revellers round a table sit,

And thro' gray clouds give laws unto the realm,
Curse good and great, but worship their own wit,
And roar of fights, and fairs, and junketings,
Corn, colts, and curs-the while the Blackbird sings.

Before her home, in her accustom'd seat,

The tidy Grandam spins beneath the shade

Of the old honeysuckle, at her feet

The dreaming pug, and purring tabby laid; To her low chair a little maiden clings,

And spells in silence-while the Blackbird sings.