Happy Birthday, Alfred

Born today in 1809 in Somersby in Lincolnshire, England, Alfred Tennyson, later (at 75 and for his poetry!!!) Baron Tennyson. The most popular and best-selling poet of his day (or any, probably), he outsold even Dickens.

Most of his poems are long (find them here) - some are full-length books like Idylls of the King (Arthur)) - but here's one that's not:


Summer Night

NOW sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:
The firefly wakens: waken thou with me.

Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.

Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me.

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.