Category Archives: PlayingItFwd

Knowledge Comes

This leaves me in awe of Lord Tennyson’s poetic talent- and near tears for the sadness of his life.  A short biography helped put this poem in perspective…as if he wrung his heart and out-poured Locksley Hall. 
Locksley Hall


Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet ‘t is early morn:

Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn.


T is the place, and all around it, as of old, the curlews call,

Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley Hall;


Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy tracts,

And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts.


Continue reading Knowledge Comes