Explore "In Memoriam a. H. H" by Alfred Tennyson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Old Yew, which graspest at the stones / That name the under-lying dead, / Thy fibres net the dreamless head, / Thy roots are wrapt about the bones.
The seasons bring the flower again, / And bring the firstling to the flock; / And in the dusk of thee, the clock / Beats out the little lives of men.