Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 1 of 2.djvu/144

vi.

I curl'd and comb'd his comely head,

He look'd so grand when he was dead.
⁠The wind is blowing in turret and tree.
I wrapt his body in the sheet,
And laid him at his mother's feet.
⁠O the Earl was fair to see!