Dear Master in our classic town,
You, loved by all the younger gown
There at Balliol,
Lay your Plato for one minute down,
II
And read a Grecian tale re-told,
Which, cast in later Grecian mould,
Quintus Calaber
Somewhat lazily handled of old;
III
And on this white midwinter day--
For have the far-off hymns of May,
All her melodies,
All her harmonies echo'd away?--
IV
To-day, before you turn again
To thoughts that lift the soul of men,
Hear my cataract's
Downward thunder in hollow and glen,
V
Till, led by dream and vague desire,
The woman, gliding toward the pyre,
Find her warrior
Stark and dark in his funeral fire.
To The Master Of Balliol
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Poem topics: away, dark, dream, fire, funeral, woman, dear, desire, soul, white, town, hear, classic, thunder, master, minute, warrior, harmonies, Valentine's Day, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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