Anniversary Addresf^. 3 



And here, quoting these words of the great poet, whose 

 death in the fulness of his years and fame all the Englisli- 

 speaking world this day bewails, I cannot but pause to 

 testify how much he has endowed with delight all who love 

 and study Nature. Think of the charm added to a stroll 

 along the water side by his " Brook," with its clumps of 



" Sweet forget-me-nots 

 That grow for happy lovers." 



Who sees the yew, that grim old evergreen, that does not 

 recall the apostrophe in " In Meinoriam ?" 



Old yew which graspest at the stones 



That name the under-lying dead. 



Thy fibres net the dreamless head, 

 Thy roots are wrapt about the bones. 



And now the daring, yet reverent musings of his great poem 

 enfold a deepened significance. The dread secret towards 

 which he could only "stretch lame hands of faith, and 

 grope," has been revealed to him, if revelation there be. 

 For the friend in whose memory he indited that innnortal 

 dirge, he d^;sired a resting-place 



Beneath the clover sod 

 That takes the sunshine and the rains. 

 Or where the kneeling hamlet drains 

 The chalice of the grapes of God. 



But in the spacious dome of Westminster, Tennyson 

 himself may be said to rest more fitly where not a hamlet, 

 but a great nation kneels 



To return to our argument, who would choose, for the 

 sake of mere classification, to neglect or forget Perdita's 

 melodious catalogue — 



Daffodils, 

 That come before the swallow dares, and take 

 The winds of March with beauty ; violets, dim. 

 But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, 

 Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses 

 That die unmarried, ere they can behold 

 Bright Phoebus in his strength ; bold oxlips and 

 The crown-imperial. 



