Lord Alfred Tennyson

When rosy plumelets tuft the larch,
And rarely pipes the mounted thrush.

When rosy plumelets tuft the larch,
And rarely pipes the mounted thrush.

In after-dinner talk,
Across the walnuts and the wine.

In after-dinner talk,
Across the walnuts and the wine.

Gone--flitted away,
Taken the stars from the night and the sun
From the day!
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Gone--flitted away,
Taken the stars from the night and the sun
From the day!
Gone, and a cloud in my heart.

And rolling far along the gloomy shores
The voice of days of old and days to be.

And rolling far along the gloomy shores
The voice of days of old and days to be.

And oft I heard the tender dove
In firry woodlands making moan.

And oft I heard the tender dove
In firry woodlands making moan.