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 IN MEMORIAM. (ALFRED TENNYSON, obit 1892.) , great bard, a glorious memory now— For all who knew thy spell, The circling Moon upon thy dark'ning brow Laid fit farewell.

Rightly thou would'st that no unseemly tears Should mar thy closing day— The laurelled victor 'mid acclaiming cheers Should pass away.

More fit the note of praise, the reverent boast, To sound his passing knell, Who sang of all we love and cherish most, And sang so well:

Who filled a nation's heart with quickening fire Of white-robed Virtue's lore, Who wrought sweet music from his Saxon lyre, Unheard before:

Who drew our footsteps to the shining heights Above earth's misty zone, Where shafts break ever from the crystal lights About the Throne: