Four Poems of Tennyson

What sight so lured him thro' the fields he knew 
As where earth's green stole into heaven's own hue, 
Far - far - away? 

What sound was dearest in his native dells? 
The mellow lin-lan-lone of evening bells
Far - far - away? 

What vague world whisper, mystic pain or joy, 
Thro' those three words would haunt him when a boy, 
Far - far - away?

A whisper from his dawn of life? A breath
From some fair dawn beyond the doors of death 
Far - far - away?

Far, far, how far? From o'er the gates of birth, 
The faint horizons, all the bounds of earth,
Far - far - away? 

What charm in words, a charm no words could give? 
O dying words, can Music make you live
Far - far - away?

The varying year with blade and sheaf
Clothes and reclothes the happy plains,
Here rests the sap within the leaf,
Here stays the blood along the veins.
 ... 

 ... 
Here stoops the banner on the tower,
On the hall-hearths the festal fires,
The peacock in his laurel bower,
The parrot in his gilded wires.

Roof-haunting martins warm their eggs:
In these, in those the life is stay'd.
The mantles from the golden pegs
Droop sleepily: no sound is made,
 ... 

 ...