POEM
The Eagle
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
More than any other Victorian writer, Tennyson has seemed the embodiment of his age, both to his . . . MORE »
More Poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 95
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 30
The Princess: The Splendour Falls on Castle Walls
MORE »
