He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
***
Lord Alfred Tennyson
More poems by Baron Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Tagged 19, 19thcentury, about19century, about19thcentury, aboutclassicalpoetry, aboutclassics, aboutengland, aboutenglishpoems, aboutenglishpoets, aboutlaureate, aboutlife, aboutlyricism, aboutmeaningoflife, aboutromantic, aboutromantism, aboutvictorianpoetry, britishempire, classical, classicalpoetry, empire, Englishpoetry, Keats, lyric, poetlaureate, romantic, romantism, Tennyson, Victorian, Victorianpoetry
