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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 68 pages of information about The Suppressed Poems of Alfred Lord Tennyson.

XL

=Cambridge=

[This poem is written in pencil on the fly-leaf of a copy of Poems 1833 in the Dyce Collection in South Kensington Museum.  Reprinted with many alterations in Life, vol.  I, p. 67.]

  Therefore your halls, your ancient colleges,
    Your portals statued with old kings and queens,
  Your bridges and your busted libraries,
    Wax-lighted chapels and rich carved screens,
    Your doctors and your proctors and your deans
  Shall not avail you when the day-beam sports
    New-risen o’er awakened Albion—­No,
    Nor yet your solemn organ-pipes that blow
  Melodious thunders through your vacant courts
  At morn and even; for your manner sorts
    Not with this age, nor with the thoughts that roll,
  Because the words of little children preach
  Against you,—­ye that did profess to teach
    And have taught nothing, feeding on the soul.

XLI

=The Germ of ’Maud’=

[There was published in 1837 in The Tribute, (a collection of original poems by various authors, edited by Lord Northampton), a contribution by Tennyson entitled ‘Stanzas,’ consisting of xvi stanzas of varying lengths (110 lines in all).  In 1855 the first xii stanzas were published as the fourth section of the second part of ‘Maud.’  Some verbal changes and transpositions of lines were made; a new stanza (the present sixth) and several new lines were introduced, and the xth stanza of 1837 became the xiiith of 1855.  But stanzas xiii-xvi of 1837 have never been reprinted in any edition of Tennyson’s works, though quoted in whole or part in various critical studies of the poet.  Swinburne refers to this poem as ’the poem of deepest charm and fullest delight of pathos and melody ever written, even by Mr Tennyson.’  This poem in The Tribute gained Tennyson his first notice in the Edinburgh Review, which had till then ignored him.]

  XIII

  But she tarries in her place
  And I paint the beauteous face
      Of the maiden, that I lost,
          In my inner eyes again,
  Lest my heart be overborne,
  By the thing I hold in scorn,
      By a dull mechanic ghost
          And a juggle of the brain.

  XIV

  I can shadow forth my bride
      As I knew her fair and kind
          As I woo’d her for my wife;
  She is lovely by my side
      In the silence of my life—­
          ’Tis a phantom of the mind.

  XV

  ’Tis a phantom fair and good
      I can call it to my side,
          So to guard my life from ill,
      Tho’ its ghastly sister glide
          And be moved around me still
  With the moving of the blood
      That is moved not of the will.

  XVI

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