If Sleep and Death be truly one,
      And every spirit's folded bloom
      Thro' all its intervital gloom
In some long trance should slumber on;

Unconscious of the sliding hour,
      Bare of the body, might it last,
      And silent traces of the past
Be all the colour of the flower:

So then were nothing lost to man;
      So that still garden of the souls
      In many a figured leaf enrolls
The total world since life began;

And love will last as pure and whole
      As when he loved me here in Time,
      And at the spiritual prime
Rewaken with the dawning soul.


Victorian Website Overview Alfred Lord Tennyson In Memoriam Leading Questions next

Last modified 16 February 2010