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.