| | Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
‘She must weep or she will die.’
Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.
Stole a maiden from her place,
Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face;
Yet she neither moved nor wept.
Rose a nurse of ninety years,
Set his child upon her knee—
Like summer tempest came her tears—
‘Sweet my child, I live for thee.’
Alfred Lord Tennyson |
|
3 comments:
This is one of the poems I still know by-heart from school oral examinations =)
i still remeber this whole poem by heart !!v had this in 8th std !! the teacher who explained made it so memorable too !!
High School Poem
Post a Comment