Explore "In Memoriam a. H. H" by Alfred Tennyson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I sing to him that rests below, / And, since the grasses round me wave, / I take the grasses of the grave, / And make them pipes whereon to blow.
The traveller hears me now and then, / And sometimes harshly will he speak: / "This fellow would make weakness weak, / And melt the waxen hearts of men."