Audley Court Poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Audley Court

Rating: 2.9


Audley Court


‘The Bull, the Fleece are cramm’d, and not a room
For love or money. Let us picnic there
At Audley Court.’

I spoke, while Audley feast

Humm’d like a hive all round the narrow quay,
To Francis, with a basket on his arm,
To Francis just alighted from the boat,
And breathing of the sea. ‘With all my heart,’
Said Francis. Then we shoulder’d thro’ the swarm,
And rounded by the stillness of the beach
To where the bay runs up its latest horn.

We left the dying ebb that faintly lipp’d
The flat red granite; so by many a sweep
Of meadow smooth from aftermath we reach’d
The griffin-guarded gates, and pass’d thro’ all
The pillar’d dusk of sounding sycamores,
And cross’d the garden to the gardener’s lodge,
With all its casements bedded, and its walls
And chimneys muffled in the leafy vine.


There, on a slope of orchard, Francis laid
A damask napkin wrought with horse and hound,
Brought out a dusky loaf that smelt of home,
And, half-cut-down, a pasty costly-made,
Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay,
Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks
Imbedded and injellied; last, with these,
A flask of cider from his father’s vats,
Prime, which I knew; and so we sat and eat
And talk’d old matters over; who was dead,
Who married, who was like to be, and how
The races went, and who would rent the hall:
Then touch’d upon the game, how scarce it was
This season; glancing thence, discuss’d the farm,
The four-field system, and the price of grain;
And struck upon the corn-laws, where we split,
And came again together on the king
With heated faces; till he laugh’d aloud;
And, while the blackbird on the pippin hung
To hear him, clapt his hand in mine and sang–


‘Oh! who would fight and march and countermarch,
Be shot for sixpence in a battle-field,
And shovell’d up into some bloody trench
Where no one knows? but let me live my life.
‘Oh! who would cast and balance at a desk,
Perch’d like a crow upon a three-legg’d stool,
Till all his juice is dried, and all his joints
Are full of chalk? but let me live my life.
‘Who’d serve the state? for if I carved my name
Upon the cliffs that guard my native land,
I might as well have traced it in the sands;
The sea wastes all: but let me live my life.
‘Oh! who would love? I woo’d a woman once,
But she was sharper than an eastern wind,
And all my heart turn’d from her, as a thorn
Turns from the sea; but let me live my life.’


He sang his song, and I replied with mine:
I found it in a volume, all of songs,
Knock’d down to me, when old Sir Robert’s pride,
His books–the more the pity, so I said–
Came to the hammer here in March–and this–
I set the words, and added names I knew.


‘Sleep, Ellen Aubrey, sleep, and dream of me:
Sleep, Ellen, folded in thy sister’s arm,
And sleeping, haply dream her arm is mine.
‘Sleep, Ellen, folded in Emilia’s arm;
Emilia, fairer than all else but thou,
For thou art fairer than all else that is.
‘Sleep, breathing health and peace upon her breast:
Sleep, breathing love and trust against her lip:
I go to-night: I come to-morrow morn.
‘I go, but I return: I would I were
The pilot of the darkness and the dream.
Sleep, Ellen Aubrey, love, and dream of me.’


So sang we each to either, Francis Hale,
The farmer’s son, who lived across the bay,
My friend; and I, that having wherewithal,
And in the fallow leisure of my life
A rolling stone of here and everywhere,
Did what I would; but ere the night we rose
And saunter’d home beneath a moon, that, just
In crescent, dimly rain’d about the leaf
Twilights of airy silver, till we reach’d
The limit of the hills; and as we sank
From rock to rock upon the glooming quay,
The town was hush’d beneath us: lower down
The bay was oily calm; the harbour-buoy,
Sole star of phosphorescence in the calm,
With one green sparkle ever and anon
Dipt by itself, and we were glad at heart.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
William Goldman 01 December 2013

A lovely flow and rhythm to this poem

3 0 Reply
Dr Antony Theodore 17 July 2019

He sang his song, and I replied with mine: I found it in a volume, all of songs, Knock’d down to me, very fine poem. tony

1 0 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 17 July 2019

Amazing story poem penned by Alfred Lord Tennyson and though long it is one of his best poems. Enjoyed reading.

0 0 Reply
Bernard F. Asuncion 17 July 2019

A wonderful poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson....

0 0 Reply
Dr Dillip K Swain 17 July 2019

The alliterative verse with great rhythm is the significant attribute of Tennyson’s poetry! The fathomless beauty of his poetry is unique! The things which I notice in the following lines of this great poem: In crescent, dimly rain’d about the leaf/Twilights of airy silver, till we reach’d/The limit of the hills; and as we sank/From rock to rock upon the glooming quay.

0 0 Reply
Sylvia Frances Chan 26 March 2022

Alfred Lord Tennyson oft wrote poems with epic length, but he was the best.5 Stars full Score for this Classic Poem Of The Day

1 0 Reply
Sylvia Frances Chan 26 March 2022

In 1838 Tennyson was in Torquay, a place he called "the loveliest sea village in England". He apparently "had no money for touring, nor did he wish for change". He wrote at the time, "I require quiet and myself to myself, more than any man when I write."

1 0 Reply
Adeeb Alfateh 17 July 2019

He sang his song, and I replied with mine: I found it in a volume, all of songs, Knock’d down to me, when old Sir Robert’s pride, His books–the more the pity, so I said– Came to the hammer here in March–and this– I set the words, and added names I knew. o great poem great 10++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

1 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 17 July 2019

Did what i would! ! ! ! ! ! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

0 0 Reply
Ruta Mohapatra 17 July 2019

A pleasant story! Thanks for sharing!

0 0 Reply
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