Alfred Tennyson, Lord Tennyson. 1809-1892
703. St. Agnes' Eve
1 min to read
207 words

DEEP on the convent-roof the snows   Are sparkling to the moon: My breath to heaven like vapour goes:   May my soul follow soon! The shadows of the convent-towers   Slant down the snowy sward, Still creeping with the creeping hours   That lead me to my Lord: Make Thou my spirit pure and clear   As are the frosty skies, Or this first snowdrop of the year   That in my bosom lies.

As these white robes are soil'd and dark,   To yonder shining ground; As this pale taper's earthly spark,   To yonder argent round; So shows my soul before the Lamb,   My spirit before Thee; So in mine earthly house I am,   To that I hope to be. Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,   Thro' all yon starlight keen, Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,   In raiment white and clean.

He lifts me to the golden doors;   The flashes come and go; All heaven bursts her starry floors,   And strows her lights below, And deepens on and up! the gates   Roll back, and far within For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,   To make me pure of sin. The sabbaths of Eternity,   One sabbath deep and wide— A light upon the shining sea—   The Bridegroom with his bride!

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Alfred Tennyson, Lord Tennyson. 1809-1892
704. Blow, Bugle, blow
1 min to read
128 words
Return to Hemingway's List for a Young Writer (1934)






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