Explore "The Suppressed Poems" by Alfred Tennyson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
My Rosalind, my Rosalind, / Bold, subtle, careless Rosalind, / Is one of those who know no strife / Of inward woe or outward fear; / To whom the slope and stream of life, / The life before, the life behind, / In the ear, from far and near, / Chimeth musically clear. / My falconhearted Rosalind / Fullsailed before a vigorous wind, / Is one of those who cannot weep / For others' woes, but overleap / All the petty shocks and fears / That trouble life in early years, / With a flash of frolic scorn / And keen delight, that never falls / Away from freshness, self-upborne / With such gladness, as, whenever / The freshflushing springtime calls / To the flooding waters cool, / Young fishes, on an April morn, / Up and down a rapid river, / Leap the little waterfalls / That sing into the pebbled pool.
My happy falcon, Rosalind, / Hath daring fancies of her own, / Fresh as the dawn before the day, / Fresh as the early seasmell blown / Through vineyards from an inland bay. / My Rosalind, my Rosalind, / Because no shadow on you falls, / Think you hearts are tennis balls / To play with, wanton Rosalind?