 | The Poems of Mackenzie Bell |  |
TO FREDERICK TENNYSON.
(Died February 26th, 1898, in his ninety-first year.)
Eldest of your august, poetic race,
You go the last to your calm resting-place;
Yet though you pass from out our earthly view,
Your work remains, and Time shall give your due.
You go the last to your calm resting-place;
Yet though you pass from out our earthly view,
Your work remains, and Time shall give your due.
Whether beneath the tranquil Tuscan skies
You mused as all too soon the daylight dies;
Whether you watched from your far island home
The English Channel's eddying miles of foam;
Or whether in your mild declining days
You sojourned 'mid our clamorous London's ways;
Yours was the poet's life through length of years;
Yours were the poet's joys, and hopes, and fears;
Yours were the tender ministries of song;
Yours were the pleasures which to bards belong
Who, dwelling in the world, yet “dwell apart,”
And think but of their God and of their art.
You mused as all too soon the daylight dies;
Whether you watched from your far island home
The English Channel's eddying miles of foam;
127
You sojourned 'mid our clamorous London's ways;
Yours was the poet's life through length of years;
Yours were the poet's joys, and hopes, and fears;
Yours were the tender ministries of song;
Yours were the pleasures which to bards belong
Who, dwelling in the world, yet “dwell apart,”
And think but of their God and of their art.
Our gain from lives like yours no verse can tell:
Eldest of English poets, fare you well.
Eldest of English poets, fare you well.
London, February 26th, 1898.
| The Poems of Mackenzie Bell | |