If, in thy second state sublime,
Thy ransom’d reason change replies
With all the circle of the wise,
The perfect flower of human time;

And if thou cast thine eyes below,
How dimly character’d and slight,
How dwarf’d a growth of cold and night,
How blanch’d with darkness must I grow!

Yet turn thee to the doubtful shore,
Where thy first form was made a man;
I loved thee, Spirit, and love, nor can
The soul of Shakspeare love thee more.

I find Tennyson’s view of the risen dead trivial. Why should they take on the hauteur of the English upper classes, towards their former earthly companions? Is the soul of Shakespeare judged great because he was a great poet? There is a kind of sentimental vulgarity in this section of the great poem.



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