Alfred Lord Tennyson

Far-Far-Away

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(For Music)

What sight so lured him thro' the fields he knew
As where earth's green stole into heaven's own hue,
Far--far--away?

What sound was dearest in his native dells?
The mellow lin-lan-lone of evening bells
Far--far--away.

What vague world-whisper, mystic pain or joy,
Thro' those three words would haunt him when a boy,
Far--far--away?

A whisper from his dawn of life? a breath
From some fair dawn beyond the doors of death
Far--far--away?

Far, far, how far? from o'er the gates of birth,
The faint horizons, all the bounds of earth,
Far--far--away?

What charm in words, a charm no words could give?
O dying words, can Music make you live
Far--far--away?

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Alfred Lord Tennyson