Kissing Tennyson...or any of our dear, old poets

Always on the lookout to add to my poetry collection...

We cannot touch

Miles, years apart

Save for the brush

Of heart to heart

Fingers and lips

May never meet

Your kiss of words

Bitter and sweet

Yet, without salvaged

Madrigal

We never would

Have met at all

© Janet Martin

I love reading old poetry...today at YDP they are featuring a beaut by James Whitcomb Riley.

...but, it was this poem The Brook by Alfred Tennyson that first captured my heart when I was a wee girl and sparked a lifelong love for lyrical poetry...

The Brook

COME from haunts of coot and hern,

I make a sudden sally,

And sparkle out among the fern,

To bicker down a valley.

 

By thirty hills I hurry down,

Or slip between the ridges,

By twenty thorps, a little town,

And half a hundred bridges.

 

Till last by Philip's farm I flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on forever.

 

I chatter over stony ways,

In little sharps and trebles,

I bubble into eddying bays,

I babble on the pebbles.

 

With many a curve my banks I fret

by many a field and fallow,

And many a fairy foreland set

With willow-weed and mallow.

 

I chatter, chatter, as I flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may comeand men may go,

But I go on forever.

 

I wind about, and in and out,

with here a blossom sailing,

And here and there a lusty trout,

And here and there a grayling,

 

And here and there a foamy flake

Upon me, as I travel

With many a silver water-break

Above the golden gravel,

 

And draw them all along, and flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on forever.

 

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,

I slide by hazel covers;

I move the sweet forget-me-nots

That grow for happy lovers.

 

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,

Among my skimming swallows;

I make the netted sunbeam dance

Against my sandy shallows.

 

I murmur under moon and stars

In brambly wildernesses;

I linger by my shingly bars;

I loiter round my cresses;

 

And out again I curve and flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on forever.