Tears, ideal tears by Alfred Tennyson

[Huda Mohammed 2010]

Alfred Tennyson

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather in the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,

Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!

[Huda Mohammed 2010]

Background about the poem

“Tears, Idle Tears” is part of a larger lyric poem called “The Princess". In it the poet feels sad over “the days that are no more” (the happy days of youth). He is unhappy as he knows well that all things pass away.

(Paraphrase)

The poet sings of the useless tears that rise in his heart and come into his eyes when he looks at the golden fields of autumn and remembers the past.
This past (the days that are no more) is fresh and sad. "Fresh" as the first beam of sunlight shining on the sail of a ship bringing our friend back from death. The past is also "sad" as the last red beam of sunlight that shines on the ship that carries all our beloved people down to death again.
The past is not only fresh, sad but also strange. It is strange as the song of the birds on early summer mornings to people who are dying and can only see the last rays of life.
In the final stanza, the poet describes the past as dear, sweet, deep, and wild. *It is as precious غالى as the kisses we get from a person who is now dead. *It is as sweet as kisses that we imagine ourselves giving to a lover who is out of reach. *The past is as deep as “first love” and *as wild as the sorrow that usually follows this love. Finally the poet says that the past is a “Death in Life.”

To think of the past is to feel the pain of death

[waleedabdoelsaid]

many thanks

[جمال سراج]

Thank u sooooooooooo much
May Alah bless u

[احمد حسن الوكيل]

مشكووووووووووووور

[ahmed7700]

thank you Mrs Huda really good work

[black warior]

many thanks

[mrwaelsalama]

اكرمك الله

[Huda Mohammed 2010]

شكرا لكم على مروركم الكريم

[Ihab1000]

Thanks very much inspite of all the tears in the poem

[mralavel]

thanks a lot wonderful

[Huda Mohammed 2010]

نفسى كل اللى بيدرسوا المستوى الرفيع يطالبوا بدراسة القصائد المختارة
لازم نجيب حاجة يحب الطلبة دراستها
وكذلك المدرسين
دى من القصائد الجميلة لكن لاتصلح لهذه المرحلة العمرية

[Mr. Medhat Salah]

[safi abdo]

هذا راءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءءع

[safi abdo]

هذا رائئئئئئئئئئئئئئئئئئع