Explore "From "The Princess"" by Alfred Tennyson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge; / So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns / The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds / To dying ears, when unto dying eyes / The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; / So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remember'd kisses after death, / And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd / On lips that are for others; deep as love, / Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; / O Death in Life, the days that are no more.