In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 82

I wage not any feud with Death
         For changes wrought on form and face;
         No lower life that earth's embrace
May breed with him, can fright my faith.

Eternal process moving on,
         From state to state the spirit walks;
         And these are but the shatter'd stalks,
Or ruin'd chrysalis of one.

Nor blame I Death, because he bare
         The use of virtue out of earth:
         I know transplanted human worth
Will bloom to profit, otherwhere.

For this alone on Death I wreak
         The wrath that garners in my heart;
         He put our lives so far apart
We cannot hear each other speak.


More Poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson