Verse VII FromAlfred Tennyson`s `In Memoriam`

February 25 – March 10, 2010
Arts & Culture 9
The Epoch Times
The Antidote—Classic Poetry for Modern Life
Watercolor Pencils
Verse VII From Alfred Tennyson’s ‘In Memoriam’
A cheap, quick, and
fun way to renew
your passion for art
By Christopher Nield
By TIM GEBHART
Epoch Times Staff
Do you sigh at the sight of a
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Verse VII from ‘In Memoriam’
Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,
A hand that can be clasped no more—
Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.
He is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro’ the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.
The brooding image of the “dark house” dominates
Tennyson’s short, powerful poem—one that teeters
between stark, uncomfortable realism and full-blown
nightmare. Clearly we are seeing the house after midnight, yet we are also viewing it through the darkness
of despair. It is also dark because it is vacant. As if
we had picked up a Sherlock Holmes mystery, we
are forced to ask why Tennyson has come to “stand”
outside of this empty house.
When Tennyson says “behold me” in the second
stanza, he is begging us to make the effort to really
see what he is describing: to begin to make sense of
the surrealistic details of the house, the street and
his telltale heart. It is a cry to be understood. Indeed,
when we are in the grip of profound sadness, we need
to have our vulnerability recognized and accepted.
Unable to “sleep” he has come “once more” to this
house, staring at its “doors,” silent and shut. A story
has come to an end. The image of the “long unlovely
street” evokes his exhaustion—life as a journey unrelieved by grace.
What has happened? He remembers his heart once
beating in anticipation of someone’s presence. (The
use of the past tense chills us with its implication that
Tennyson’s heart is now still. Is he a ghost?) He is
tormented by the absence of an effusive greeting—a
hand “that can be clasped no more”—reminding us
that the firm handshake of good friends goes very
deep, though such feelings are rarely spoken aloud.
We realize he is in mourning. As part of the sequence “In Memoriam,” the poem was in fact pro-
liza voronin/the epoch times
voked by the death of Tennyson’s close friend Arthur
Hallam at the age of 22. His old excitement reminds
us of our own friendships in our early twenties—
full of utopian ideas and the brilliant illusion that
the world is poised to be remade. But his dreams
have come crashing down. The punning phrase
“earliest morning” dissolves hope into its opposite:
The first light of day becomes the first moment of
desolation.
The final stanza begins with the sheer inescapable
agony at the heart of Tennyson’s life: “He is not here.”
Curiously, this line echoes St. Matthew describing the
risen Christ: “He is not here. He has been brought
back to life as he said. Come, see the place where he
is lying.” Does death make a mockery of this, or does
it confirm the Gospel promise of resurrection?
Everything in the final stanza evokes a mind sliding into chaos. The mention of the “drizzling rain”
comes as a surprise—it’s as if, only now, Tennyson
becomes aware of this misty shroud. We see him
hollow-eyed and soaked through to the skin. The
universe mourns with him.
The “noise of life” describes the rebirth of the
surrounding town or city as it springs into motion.
We hear this din in the battering “b” sounds in the
unforgettable concluding line—and we feel Tennyson’s head throbbing from the onslaught. The street
is “bald” because it is shorn of sentiment, fantasy,
whim. Bringing blankness, the dawn robs him of
poetry itself. At this point, the words disappear into
the white page—and the moment we have shared
with him lapses back into the unknown past.
Throughout “In Memoriam,” Tennyson balances
intense feeling, verging on mania, with the delicate
precision of poetic form. Rhythm, rhyme, and meter
subtly affirm order and meaning even while darkness
seems to triumph. Elsewhere, Tennyson speaks of the
“sad mechanic exercise” of writing “In Memoriam,”
yet out of this emerges one of the most moving poems
in the English language.
Alfred Tennyson (1809­– 1892) was Poet Laureate
during much of Queen Victoria’s reign. His most
famous poems include “The Charge of the Light
Brigade,” and “Crossing the Bar.”
Great for Beginners
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Enjoyable
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Tim Gebhart/the Epoch Times