THE GRANDMOTHER’S APOLOGY.
BY ALFRED TENNYSON.
I.
And Willy, my eldest born, is gone, you say, little Anne?
Ruddy and white, and strong on his legs, he looks like a man.
And Willy’s wife has written: she never was overwise,
Never the wife for Willy: he wouldn’t take my advice.
II.
For, Annie, you see, her father was not the man to save,
Hadn’t a head to manage, and drank himself into his grave.
Pretty enough, very pretty! but I was against it for one.
Eh!—but he wouldn’t hear me—and Willy, you say, is gone.
III.
Willy, my beauty, my eldest boy, the flower of the flock,
Never a man could fling him: for Willy stood like a rock.
“Here’s a leg for a babe of a week!” says doctor; and he would be bound,
There was not his like that year in twenty parishes round.
IV.
Strong of his hands, and strong on his legs, but still of his tongue!
I ought to have gone before him: I wonder he went so young.
I cannot cry for him, Annie: I have not long to stay;
Perhaps I shall see him the sooner, for he lived far away.
V.
Why do you look at me, Annie? you think I am hard and cold;
But all my children have gone before me, I am so old:
I cannot weep for Wi11y, nor can I weep for the rest;
Only at your age, Annie, I could have wept with the best.
