Poets' Corner Home Page . News and Recent Additions
The Holy Tide
- THE days are sad, it is the Holy tide.
- The Winter morn is short, the Night is long;
- So let the lifeless Hours be glorified
- With deathless thoughts and echo'd in sweet song:
- And through the sunset of this purple cup
- They will resume the roses of their prime,
- And the old Dead will hear us and wake up,
- Pass with dim smiles and make our hearts sublime!
- The days are sad, it is the Holy tide:
- Be dusky misletoes and hollies strown,
- Sharp as the spear that pierced His sacred side,
- Red as the drops upon His thorny crown;
- No haggard Passion and no lawless Mirth
- Fright off the solemn Muse, -- tell sweet old tales,
- Sing songs as we sit brooding o'er the hearth,
- Till the lamp flickers and the memory fails.
- Frederick Tennyson
Poets' Corner .
H O M E .
©2000 Poets' Corner Editorial Staff, All Rights Reserved Worldwide