The splendour falls on castle walls.....
The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O, sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying,
Blow, bugles; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river;
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
It is said that Tennyson conveys the conclusion that there is both a dying and an eternal life at work in both nature and in the life of human beings. We none of us know for certain about eternity but what we do know, living here year on year, is that we walk and take photographs and observe the process of life, decay and life again. And on weeks like this we stop and listen to the sound of waterfalls as they journey to the sea and we are glad to be alive at this moment and in this place.
