Page:Enoch Arden, etc - Tennyson - 1864.djvu/50

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ENOCH ARDEN.
The gentle shower, the smell of dying leaves,And the low moan of leaden-colour’d seas.
 Once likewise, in the ringing of his ears,Tho’ faintly, merrily—far and far away—He heard the pealing of his parish bells;Then, tho’ he knew not wherefore, started upShuddering, and when the beauteous hateful isleReturn’d upon him, had not his poor heartSpoken with That, which being everywhereLets none, who speaks with Him, seem all alone,Surely the man had died of solitude.
 Thus over Enoch’s early-silvering headThe sunny and rainy seasons came and wentYear after year. His hopes to see his own,And pace the sacred old familiar fields,Not yet had perish’d, when his lonely doomCame suddenly to an end. Another ship(She wanted water) blown by baffling winds,
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