Come not, when I am dead...
First published in The Keepsake for 1851.
Come not, when I am dead,
To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,
To trample round my fallen head,
And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.
There let the wind sweep and the plover cry;
But thou, go by.[[1]]
Child, if it were thine error or thy crime
I care no longer, being all unblest:
Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time,[[2]]
And I desire to rest.
Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie:
Go by, go by.
[1] The Keepsake:—But go thou by.
[2] The Keepsake has a small t for Time.
The Eagle
(fragment)
First published in 1851. It has not been altered.
He clasps the crag with hooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;[[1]]
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
[1] One of Tennyson’s most magically descriptive lines; nothing could exceed the vividness of the words “wrinkled” and “crawls” here.