Poetry Friday: Lord Alfred Tennyson

It's been a gray week around here. Aside from the cold and the rain, I spent hours with my father gathering all the necessary documents for financial assistance for my mother in the nursing home. Tennyson's lines match my state of mind today. 

From "In Memoriam"

Lord Alfred Tennyson

To-night the winds begin to rise
And roar from yonder dropping day:
The last red leaf is whirl'd away,
The rooks are blown about the skies;

The forest crack'd, the waters curl'd,
The cattle huddled on the lea;
And wildly dash'd on tower and tree
The sunbeam strikes along the world:

And but for fancies, which aver
That all thy motions gently pass
Athwart a plane of molten glass,
I scarce could brook the strain and stir

That makes the barren branches loud;
And but for fear it is not so,
The wild unrest that lives in woe
Would dote and pore on yonder cloud

That rises upward always higher,
And onward drags a labouring breast,
And topples round the dreary west,
A looming bastion fringed with fire.

More Poetry Friday with Robyn Hood Black at Read, Write, Howl.