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Poem by Alfred Austin


To Alfred Tennyson


Poet! in other lands, when Spring no more
Gleams o'er the grass, nor in the thicket-side
Plays at being lost and laughs to be descried,
And blooms lie wilted on the orchard floor,
Then the sweet birds that from Ægean shore
Across Ausonian breakers thither hied,
Own April's music in their breast hath died,
And croft and copse resound not as before.
But, in this privileged Isle, this brave, this blest,
This deathless England, it seems always Spring.
Though graver wax the days, Song takes not wing.
In Autumn boughs it builds another nest:
Even from the snow we lift our hearts and sing,
And still your voice is heard above the rest.



Alfred Austin

Poem Theme: Alfred Tennyson

Alfred Austin's other poems:
  1. Why England Is Conservative
  2. Nocturnal Vigils
  3. Aspromonte
  4. When Runnels Began to Leap and Sing
  5. The Death Of Huss


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