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‘Whither, O whither, love, shall we go, For a score of sweet little summers or so?’ The sweet little wife of the singer said, On the day that follow’d the day she was wed, ‘Whither, O whither, love, shall we go?’ And the singer shaking his curly head Turn’d as he sat, and struck the keys There at his right with a sudden crash, Singing, ‘And shall it be over the seas With a crew that is neither rude nor rash, But a bevy of Eroses apple-cheek’d, In a shallop of crystal ivory-beak’d? With a satin sail of a ruby glow, To a sweet little Eden on earth that I know, A mountain islet pointed and peak’d; Waves on a diamond shingle dash, Cataract brooks to the ocean run, Fairily-delicate palaces shine Mixt with myrtle and clad with vine, And overstream’d and silvery-streak’d With many a rivulet high against the sun The facets of the glorious mountain flash Above the valleys of palm and pine.’ ‘Thither, O thither, love, let us go.’
‘No, no, no! ‘Mock me not! mock me not! love, let us go.’
‘No, love, no. Home Chronological Index of Tennyson's Works Timeline of Tennyson's Life Links to Other Tennyson Sites Sources/Info Send Corrections, Suggestions, or Comments |