The Living Dead

Honouring our poetic ancestors 

Crossing the Bar

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809 - 1892)

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crost the bar. 

I was brought up on this — my Dad loved to recite it — and I always think it was that other sea-loving poet, John Masefield, who wrote it. But no, it was the great Tennyson after all.

If my Dad understood the metaphor, that wasn't clear to me as a child. Perhaps he just loved the sounds of the words. I certainly loved hearing them roll off his tongue! I also have a memory of him reciting them a bit tipsy on one occasion. When he got to 'And may there be no moaning at (sic) the bar / When I put out to sea', my Mum said drily, 'Don't worry, there won't be.' I think she was talking about the kind of bar that men drank in!

It's clear to me now that Tennyson was thinking of his death, hoping it would be a smooth and easy transition and that those he left would not grieve too hard. It also suggests that he was a deeply religious man, whose greatest hope was to come home at last to God. It is by no means the only one of his poems with a distinctly Christian flavour. Which is odd, as the Wikipedia article (see link on his name, above) informs us that he tended towards agnosticism and Pantheism. 

He was wonderful in lyrics such as this, a master of rhyme and metre. He was also famous for longer poems such as The Charge of the Light Brigade, The Lady of Shalott, and the long In Memoriam on the untimely death of his best friend. My favourite is Ulysses but it's a bit long to use here. His works can be found at PoemHunter, and there are numerous volumes at his Amazon page.

It's astonishing to learn that his first book of poetry was badly received! However, in later life he was made Poet Laureate, the longest serving British poet laureate ever, and was honoured with a peerage.

Classic Poetry ~ "Vivien's Song " by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

 Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1809 - 1892

Alfred, Lord Tennyson is considered the greatest poet of Victorian England. He wrote poetry as a child, penning a six-thousand-line epic poem when he was twelve. He was published by age 17. At Cambridge University, which he left before receiving his degree, his early success and moods both intimidated and impressed others. This was, in all likelihood, the time of onset for what many believe was bipolar disorder, the serious mental illness which presented itself in many members of  his family.

Despite a 10-year period during which he did not write, Alfred produced numerous collections before being named Britain's Poet Laureate when he was only 41, succeeding William Wordsworth. A dedicated craftsman who meticulously honored form, diction, rhyme scheme and meter,  he wrote poetry spanning the emotional spectrum,  from uplifting buoyancy to deep despair. In Vivien's Song, he examines unfaithfulness and its effects on relationship, a topic that is lively and pertinent still.

Vivien's Song

‘IN Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours,

Faith and unfaith can ne’er be equal powers:

Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.

  ‘It is the little rift within the lute,

That by and by will make the music mute,

        

And ever widening slowly silence all.

  ‘The little rift within the lover’s lute

Or little pitted speck in garnered fruit,

That rotting inward slowly moulders all.

  ‘It is not worth the keeping: let it go:

        

But shall it? answer, darling, answer, no.

And trust me not at all or all in all’.

Classic Poetry - (The lotos-Eaters - Lord Alfred Tennyson)

The Lotos-Eaters

"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land,
"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
In the afternoon they came unto a land
In which it seemed always afternoon.
All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.