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Alfred Lord Tennyson - In Memoriam A. H. H.: 5.
Work rating: Medium

I sometimes hold it half a sin
      To put in words the grief I feel;
      For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.
But, for the unquiet heart and brain,
      A use in  measured language lies;
      The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.
In words, like weeds, I`ll wrap me o`er,
     Like coarsest clothes against the cold;
     But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more.
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