Across The Sea

Into the silence of the silent night
He passed, whom all men honor; and the sun
Arose to shine upon a world undone,
And barren lives, bereft of Life's delight.
The morning air was chill with sudden blight,
And Winter's cruel triumph had begun;
But He to some far Summer shore had won,
Whose splendor hides him from our dazzled sight.

Not England's pride alone, this Lord of Song!
We — heirs to Shakespeare's and to Milton's speech —
Claim heritage from Tennyson's proud years:
To us his spacious, splendid lines belong —
We, too, repeat his praises, each to each —
We share his glory, and we share your tears.
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