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Ulysses
This is a classical poem by A. L. Tennyson.
5 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1842
13 people are currently reading
1421 people want to read
About the author
Alfred Tennyson
2,162 books1,446 followersWorks, including
In Memoriam
in 1850 and "The Charge of the Light Brigade" in 1854, of Alfred Tennyson, first baron, known as lord, appointed British poet laureate in 1850, reflect Victorian sentiments and aesthetics.
Elizabeth Tennyson, wife, bore Alfred Tennyson, the fourth of twelve children, to George Tennyson, clergyman; he inevitably wrote his books. In 1816, parents sent Tennyson was sent to grammar school of Louth.
Alfred Tennyson disliked school so intensely that from 1820, home educated him. At the age of 18 years in 1827, Alfred joined his two brothers at Trinity College, Cambridge and with Charles Tennyson, his brother, published Poems by Two Brothers , his book, in the same year.
Alfred Tennyson published Poems Chiefly Lyrical , his second book, in 1830. In 1833, Arthur Henry Hallam, best friend of Tennyson, engaged to wed his sister, died, and thus inspired some best Ulysses and the Passing of Arthur .
Following William Wordsworth, Alfred Tennyson in 1850 married Emily Sellwood Tenyson, his childhood friend. She bore Hallam Tennyson in 1852 and Lionel Tennyson in 1854, two years later.
Alfred Tennyson continued throughout his life and in the 1870s also to write a number of plays.
In 1884, the queen raised Alfred Tennyson, a great favorite of Albert, prince, thereafter to the peerage of Aldworth. She granted such a high rank for solely literary distinction to this only Englishman.
Alfred Tennyson died at the age of 83 years, and people buried his body in abbey of Westminster.
Elizabeth Tennyson, wife, bore Alfred Tennyson, the fourth of twelve children, to George Tennyson, clergyman; he inevitably wrote his books. In 1816, parents sent Tennyson was sent to grammar school of Louth.
Alfred Tennyson disliked school so intensely that from 1820, home educated him. At the age of 18 years in 1827, Alfred joined his two brothers at Trinity College, Cambridge and with Charles Tennyson, his brother, published Poems by Two Brothers , his book, in the same year.
Alfred Tennyson published Poems Chiefly Lyrical , his second book, in 1830. In 1833, Arthur Henry Hallam, best friend of Tennyson, engaged to wed his sister, died, and thus inspired some best Ulysses and the Passing of Arthur .
Following William Wordsworth, Alfred Tennyson in 1850 married Emily Sellwood Tenyson, his childhood friend. She bore Hallam Tennyson in 1852 and Lionel Tennyson in 1854, two years later.
Alfred Tennyson continued throughout his life and in the 1870s also to write a number of plays.
In 1884, the queen raised Alfred Tennyson, a great favorite of Albert, prince, thereafter to the peerage of Aldworth. She granted such a high rank for solely literary distinction to this only Englishman.
Alfred Tennyson died at the age of 83 years, and people buried his body in abbey of Westminster.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 70 reviews
February 4, 2016
My favourite poem ever, written by my favourite poet ever.
The last few lines make up the best part (and are brilliantly narrated by Judi Dench in Skyfall)
We are not now that strength
Which in old days moved earth and heaven.
That which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
The last few lines make up the best part (and are brilliantly narrated by Judi Dench in Skyfall)
We are not now that strength
Which in old days moved earth and heaven.
That which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
January 2, 2025
Update: 2025
I have resolved to read more poetry in 2025 and I thought I might begin with an old favorite of mine that I believed might hold another view or speak to me in a different voice with my own old age to draw from. I was right. This Ulysses that I pitied in my youth, I understand in my age. We look as if we are finished. The world sees us as finished, but there is much we can still do, if we will.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides. How personal that line rang to me with this reading. It is the loss of his travels and adventures that Ulysses laments, but I thought of my years as a wife and a companion. It seemed to me the world must disappear with the loss of my husband. We had weathered every storm together for 42 years, how was I to weather the coming hurricanes without him? And yet, “much abides”, for there is memory and that will to go on, as I must, “to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” That pretty much describes every day for me, but
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
Review 2018:
Alfred Lord Tennyson’s iconic poem Ulysses is a monologue spoken by the man himself, in his old age, and looking backward to his days of triumph in Troy. He finds himself decrying his age and lack of purpose.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees:
Perhaps even more for a man such as Ulysses who has achieved so much in his life, the idea of being subjected to the ineptitude of old age is galling. He feels he still has things to offer and that he can still accomplish something of worth. And, why should it not be so?
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
And, so he determines to move forward, not to lie down and die before his time, to live until the absolute end, the last breath, and perhaps beyond.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
The final stanza is one of hope and resolve. As a person who is beginning to feel age and its limits, it is an encouraging thought that one might continue to matter if “strong in will”
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
A remarkable poem and one in which I find both meaning and solace.
I have resolved to read more poetry in 2025 and I thought I might begin with an old favorite of mine that I believed might hold another view or speak to me in a different voice with my own old age to draw from. I was right. This Ulysses that I pitied in my youth, I understand in my age. We look as if we are finished. The world sees us as finished, but there is much we can still do, if we will.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides. How personal that line rang to me with this reading. It is the loss of his travels and adventures that Ulysses laments, but I thought of my years as a wife and a companion. It seemed to me the world must disappear with the loss of my husband. We had weathered every storm together for 42 years, how was I to weather the coming hurricanes without him? And yet, “much abides”, for there is memory and that will to go on, as I must, “to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” That pretty much describes every day for me, but
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
Review 2018:
Alfred Lord Tennyson’s iconic poem Ulysses is a monologue spoken by the man himself, in his old age, and looking backward to his days of triumph in Troy. He finds himself decrying his age and lack of purpose.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees:
Perhaps even more for a man such as Ulysses who has achieved so much in his life, the idea of being subjected to the ineptitude of old age is galling. He feels he still has things to offer and that he can still accomplish something of worth. And, why should it not be so?
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
And, so he determines to move forward, not to lie down and die before his time, to live until the absolute end, the last breath, and perhaps beyond.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
The final stanza is one of hope and resolve. As a person who is beginning to feel age and its limits, it is an encouraging thought that one might continue to matter if “strong in will”
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
A remarkable poem and one in which I find both meaning and solace.
April 20, 2023
Ulysses looms like Everest in my personal history of poetry appreciation. I initially discovered it, not in a book of poetry, but on an inspirational poster that I hung in my bedroom when I was 15 — a ship, sailing into the sunset, superimposed with a longish segment of the poem. It captured my youthful, romantic imagination, and appealed to my self-image as an outsider standing apart from my peers. I identified with Ulysses’s sense of being special, set apart from the mundane world, and thrilled to the phrase
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
As I moved from the aspirations of my teens into the active bohemian life of my prime, Tennyson’s poem continued to speak to me.
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known, cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour’d of them all
These words resonated in me, sometimes literally, as when I hitchhiked from city to city, other times metaphorically, as I continued to live a life well out of the mundane mainstream. It was during this time that I committed large sections of the poem to memory.
Now, over forty years after I first hung that poster in my bedroom, I’m staring hard at fast approaching old age, and can finally appreciate the poem in much the same sense as its narrator. I find myself facing similar questions. Will my life have a third act?
Come, my friends,
‘T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
And will I face the diminishment of age with dignity and aplomb?
Tho’ much is taken, much abides: and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
That 15 year old who discovered Ulysses still lives in my aging heart, and Tennyson’s grand words speak to me still. This poem, now nearly two centuries old, has resonated through every phase of my lifetime. There’s no better judgement of a poem’s greatness than that.
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
As I moved from the aspirations of my teens into the active bohemian life of my prime, Tennyson’s poem continued to speak to me.
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known, cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour’d of them all
These words resonated in me, sometimes literally, as when I hitchhiked from city to city, other times metaphorically, as I continued to live a life well out of the mundane mainstream. It was during this time that I committed large sections of the poem to memory.
Now, over forty years after I first hung that poster in my bedroom, I’m staring hard at fast approaching old age, and can finally appreciate the poem in much the same sense as its narrator. I find myself facing similar questions. Will my life have a third act?
Come, my friends,
‘T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
And will I face the diminishment of age with dignity and aplomb?
Tho’ much is taken, much abides: and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
That 15 year old who discovered Ulysses still lives in my aging heart, and Tennyson’s grand words speak to me still. This poem, now nearly two centuries old, has resonated through every phase of my lifetime. There’s no better judgement of a poem’s greatness than that.
April 18, 2017
Alfred Tennyson is one of my favourite poets. And this one of my favourite poems. It narrates the story of Ulysses as written at the Odyssey, which I reckon is my all time favourite book.
It speaks of Ithaca. Ulysses arriving to find a (now aged) wife. And his beloved son Telemacus. The closing of this poem, famously read by Judi Dench (M) in Skyfall(2012):
'Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.'
It's fabulous! So relentless and most absolutely applicable for the era in which we live.
It speaks of Ithaca. Ulysses arriving to find a (now aged) wife. And his beloved son Telemacus. The closing of this poem, famously read by Judi Dench (M) in Skyfall(2012):
'Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.'
It's fabulous! So relentless and most absolutely applicable for the era in which we live.
March 19, 2024
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
.
.
.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; …
.
.
.
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
.
.
.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; …
.
.
.
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
August 25, 2021
“Tennyson’s Ulysses is Homer’s Odysseus felt through Dante, but the vibration of this poem of Tennyson is not due merely to a modem poet’s response to the Renaissance. The emotion to which it gives this dramatic expression is something personal to the poet, as a man alive in his time…..”
The poem was written in October 1833, soon after Tennyson heard of the bereavement of his exceptional friend Arthur Hallam in Vienna. He was engaged to the poet’s sister, Emily. He said of it, “There is more about myself in Ulysses, which was written under the sense of loss and all that had gone by, but that still life must be fought out to the end. It was more written with the feeling of this loss upon me than many poems in Memoriam (his elegiac tribute to Hallam).”
Ulysses, first published in 1842, expresses the poet’s feeling about the need of going onward and facing life, regardless of the sorrow he has suffered.
Ulysses was the legendary Greek hero, whose heroic deeds and adventures are sung by Homer in his Odyssey. Tennyson quoted both ‘Odyssey’ as well as ‘The Divine Comedy’ of Dante as his sources. Dante’s Inferno contains a portrayal of this voyage and its sequel. Tennyson took the inspiration of the voyage of Ulysses from Inferno, and modelled his hero on Homer’s.
The two phrases ‘delight in battle’ and ‘windy Troy’ have been acquitted from Homer’s Iliad. The verse of Ulysses, which is marked by a pompous expressiveness and lack of pretension, is modelled on the sublime speeches contained in the first and second books of Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’. The oratory of Ulysses reminds one of that of Satan in these books. There is a Faustian and Satanical quality in his rhetorical speech.
Tennyson’s Ulysses is based on a description in a passage in Dante’s Inferno, which translated in English, reads as follows:
“Neither fondness of my son, nor the due love which ought to have gladness Penelope, could conquer in me the ardour which I had to become experienced in the world and in human vice and worth. I put out into the deer open sea with but one ship, and with that with that small company which had not deserted me I and my companions were old and tardy when we came to that narrow pass where Hercules assigned his landmarks (i.e., the Straits of Gibralter), ‘0 brothers’. I said, “who through a thousand dangers have reached the West, deny not this so-brief the vigil of your senses that remain—experience of the unpeopled world beyond the sun. Consider your origin; ye were not formed to live like brutes but to follow virtue and knowledge.”
Tennyson has made subtle amendments in the story. Dante puts Ulysses in Hell for the sin of fraud (e.g. inventing the Trojan Horse), where he recounts the yarn of his demise at sea on a last voyage, undertaken because his infatuation for journeying conquers his feelings for son, father and wife. He recollects how he urged his small number of true cohorts ‘not refuse experience of the uninhibited world behind the sun’, but to utilize the succinct possession of their faculties, as a human being should, in following mainly ‘virtue and knowledge’.
In his composite portrait of Ulysses, Tennyson has fused varied influence ranging from Homer to Byron through Dante and Shakespeare. What materializes in the end is a perceptibly gallant, though bemused figure, an enduring and dominant donation to the Ulysses myth. Tennyson’s Ulysses is in fact, an incarnation of the modern zeal for knowledge, for the investigation of its unbounded fields, for the appropriation of new kingdoms of ‘science’ and ‘thought’.
The entire poem is put into the mouth of Ulysses, the hero of Homer’s Odyssey.
Consistent with that epic, Ulysses returned at last from his wanderings to native Ithaca; but is afflicted with displeasure on account of a life of sluggishness and yearning to set out again in search of escapade. That Ulysses left his home a second time in order to attain more understanding of life and the world was previously imagined from Dante’s ‘The Divine Comedy’. In this connection Churton Collins observes: “The germ or the spirit, and the sentiment of this poem are from 26th Canto of Dante’s Inferno. As is usual with him in all cases where he borrows, the details and minuter portions of the work are his own; he has added grace, elaboration and symmetry, he has called in the assistance of other poets (particularly of Homer and Virgil). A rough carbon draft has been metamorphosed into a perfect picture.”
Though in form the poem is a dramatic monologue, contemporary discussions have treated it from the author’s viewpoint which decided its form and called it a ‘soliloquy’ expressing the Victorian spirit of ‘conciliation’ or symptomatic of Tennyson’s tangled thinking in the poem’s structural inconsistencies; or reflecting a buoyant incredulity in contradistinction to the faith avowed in ‘In Memoriam’.
Some have called the poem an interior monologue, ‘the utterance of a superannuated hero indulging himself in the fantasy that his beloved mariners are still alive’, and therefore it is a dream providing a means of temporary escape from the uncongenial reality of Ithaca’.
To others, opposed to ignoring the dramatic element, it is ‘a lyric, a key, with which Tennyson unlocked his heart.
If the poem is read as a dramatic piece, the speaker becomes an extremely complex individual with outstanding poetic and dramatic skill.
A most interesting critical opinion treats Ulysses as a soliloquy presented as a dramatic monologue’ in which Ulysses seeks self-oblivion in death Thus, his voyage is a preparation for death and his objective is realization of spiritual reality’.
The poem was written in October 1833, soon after Tennyson heard of the bereavement of his exceptional friend Arthur Hallam in Vienna. He was engaged to the poet’s sister, Emily. He said of it, “There is more about myself in Ulysses, which was written under the sense of loss and all that had gone by, but that still life must be fought out to the end. It was more written with the feeling of this loss upon me than many poems in Memoriam (his elegiac tribute to Hallam).”
Ulysses, first published in 1842, expresses the poet’s feeling about the need of going onward and facing life, regardless of the sorrow he has suffered.
Ulysses was the legendary Greek hero, whose heroic deeds and adventures are sung by Homer in his Odyssey. Tennyson quoted both ‘Odyssey’ as well as ‘The Divine Comedy’ of Dante as his sources. Dante’s Inferno contains a portrayal of this voyage and its sequel. Tennyson took the inspiration of the voyage of Ulysses from Inferno, and modelled his hero on Homer’s.
The two phrases ‘delight in battle’ and ‘windy Troy’ have been acquitted from Homer’s Iliad. The verse of Ulysses, which is marked by a pompous expressiveness and lack of pretension, is modelled on the sublime speeches contained in the first and second books of Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’. The oratory of Ulysses reminds one of that of Satan in these books. There is a Faustian and Satanical quality in his rhetorical speech.
Tennyson’s Ulysses is based on a description in a passage in Dante’s Inferno, which translated in English, reads as follows:
“Neither fondness of my son, nor the due love which ought to have gladness Penelope, could conquer in me the ardour which I had to become experienced in the world and in human vice and worth. I put out into the deer open sea with but one ship, and with that with that small company which had not deserted me I and my companions were old and tardy when we came to that narrow pass where Hercules assigned his landmarks (i.e., the Straits of Gibralter), ‘0 brothers’. I said, “who through a thousand dangers have reached the West, deny not this so-brief the vigil of your senses that remain—experience of the unpeopled world beyond the sun. Consider your origin; ye were not formed to live like brutes but to follow virtue and knowledge.”
Tennyson has made subtle amendments in the story. Dante puts Ulysses in Hell for the sin of fraud (e.g. inventing the Trojan Horse), where he recounts the yarn of his demise at sea on a last voyage, undertaken because his infatuation for journeying conquers his feelings for son, father and wife. He recollects how he urged his small number of true cohorts ‘not refuse experience of the uninhibited world behind the sun’, but to utilize the succinct possession of their faculties, as a human being should, in following mainly ‘virtue and knowledge’.
In his composite portrait of Ulysses, Tennyson has fused varied influence ranging from Homer to Byron through Dante and Shakespeare. What materializes in the end is a perceptibly gallant, though bemused figure, an enduring and dominant donation to the Ulysses myth. Tennyson’s Ulysses is in fact, an incarnation of the modern zeal for knowledge, for the investigation of its unbounded fields, for the appropriation of new kingdoms of ‘science’ and ‘thought’.
The entire poem is put into the mouth of Ulysses, the hero of Homer’s Odyssey.
Consistent with that epic, Ulysses returned at last from his wanderings to native Ithaca; but is afflicted with displeasure on account of a life of sluggishness and yearning to set out again in search of escapade. That Ulysses left his home a second time in order to attain more understanding of life and the world was previously imagined from Dante’s ‘The Divine Comedy’. In this connection Churton Collins observes: “The germ or the spirit, and the sentiment of this poem are from 26th Canto of Dante’s Inferno. As is usual with him in all cases where he borrows, the details and minuter portions of the work are his own; he has added grace, elaboration and symmetry, he has called in the assistance of other poets (particularly of Homer and Virgil). A rough carbon draft has been metamorphosed into a perfect picture.”
Though in form the poem is a dramatic monologue, contemporary discussions have treated it from the author’s viewpoint which decided its form and called it a ‘soliloquy’ expressing the Victorian spirit of ‘conciliation’ or symptomatic of Tennyson’s tangled thinking in the poem’s structural inconsistencies; or reflecting a buoyant incredulity in contradistinction to the faith avowed in ‘In Memoriam’.
Some have called the poem an interior monologue, ‘the utterance of a superannuated hero indulging himself in the fantasy that his beloved mariners are still alive’, and therefore it is a dream providing a means of temporary escape from the uncongenial reality of Ithaca’.
To others, opposed to ignoring the dramatic element, it is ‘a lyric, a key, with which Tennyson unlocked his heart.
If the poem is read as a dramatic piece, the speaker becomes an extremely complex individual with outstanding poetic and dramatic skill.
A most interesting critical opinion treats Ulysses as a soliloquy presented as a dramatic monologue’ in which Ulysses seeks self-oblivion in death Thus, his voyage is a preparation for death and his objective is realization of spiritual reality’.
October 4, 2025
“To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.”
April 3, 2021
Tennyson’s great poem Ulysses beholds in its beautiful frame a picture of striving and yearning for the sublimity that our souls often cannot reach. Tennyson juxtaposes his carpe diem attitude—“I cannot rest from travel / I will drink / Life to the leeds”—with what scholars assume is a critique of the cultural atmosphere of Britain during his time. Nevertheless, we must not waste the beauty of life, not until we have breathed our last.
March 28, 2021
yes i've read Ulysses in full 6 times wbu Bro
Read
September 11, 2022This poem I (finally found in print) was in “Selected Poetry”. By Alfred Tennyson. It was only a 2 page poem though Goodreads only offers 2 kindle or audiobooks to allow readers to track progress. I selected the “4 page kindle version” since it was closest to the 2 page printed version I found. Also my edition of Selected Poetry by Tennyson is not in the Goodreads database so I could not reference it outside of this review. And as for my review; I had no idea what I was reading. I’m not a poetry guy but I wanted to read this one as it was referenced in a Yuval Noah Harrari book that I enjoyed. Peace be da journey, cool runnings!
December 18, 2025
Tennyson genuinely writes such beautiful poetry.
March 22, 2023
marking this one cos i like it lol
March 25, 2018
Beautiful...
"Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!"
"That which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
"Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!"
"That which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
February 1, 2020
Ulysses is back from an adventure after 20 years and is degrading the life of a king who does nothing but only instructs the others.He is interested in the life which is full of adventures.
Do,do,do!!!
Do,do,do!!!
February 10, 2024
"I am a part of all that I have met"
September 4, 2024
"To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
September 24, 2022
champagne problems.
not able to settle down, always wanting to explore.
leaving people behind as they watch you go.
not able to settle down, always wanting to explore.
leaving people behind as they watch you go.
August 14, 2025
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
------------------------------------
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
------------------------------------
A beautiful poem with a timeless message: it’s never too late to set sail for new horizons.
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
------------------------------------
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
------------------------------------
A beautiful poem with a timeless message: it’s never too late to set sail for new horizons.
March 12, 2015
I don't usually post anything about individual poems that I have read as a part of class, but I can't let this one go without a few remarks. I think that "Ulysses" is a very beautiful poem in what it's trying to get at, which is not to spend life idly, because we all are going to age and die someday. It also reads like a dramatic monologue in that Ulysses (also known as Odysseus), the aged hero, is plunged into nostalgia and a longing for adventure that he cannot have anymore.
I've had experience with Tennyson before and thought he was quite enjoyable, and I still stick to that. I think he may be one of my favorite Victorian poets in general.
I've had experience with Tennyson before and thought he was quite enjoyable, and I still stick to that. I think he may be one of my favorite Victorian poets in general.
March 22, 2018
The ending is famous, and if an ending a poem makes this one would be great; however, an ending a poem does not make, and it's a good poem but not a great poem.
July 10, 2018
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
‘T is not too late to seek a newer world.
December 24, 2019
"I am a part of all that I have met;"
October 12, 2024
-Blown and bullied forth by the winds of an unknown hand
oh let me stand sweet gaol, take leave of your demand-
—-
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an agèd wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
life to the lees: All times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honored of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge, like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle -
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port: the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me -
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads - you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be that we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
oh let me stand sweet gaol, take leave of your demand-
—-
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an agèd wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
life to the lees: All times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honored of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge, like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle -
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port: the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me -
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads - you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be that we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Read
June 24, 2021It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea. I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known—cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honored of them all,—
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the scepter and the isle,
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labor, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me,
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea. I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known—cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honored of them all,—
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the scepter and the isle,
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labor, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me,
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
February 4, 2019
I love reading poetry, but admittedly, reading poetry isn't my strongest skill. Since this poem isn't too long, I also read a summary to help me with understanding. I felt, however, that the poem was straightforward enough that understanding wasn't lost to me.
It is a creative and interesting piece. The images are lovely. However, that last line is dramatic and kind of overshadows the poem.
The theme of wanting to see the world is one that I connect with a great deal. This added to my enjoyment of the poem.
A good poem for those not really into poetry, not too long, and not too difficult to understand.
It is a creative and interesting piece. The images are lovely. However, that last line is dramatic and kind of overshadows the poem.
The theme of wanting to see the world is one that I connect with a great deal. This added to my enjoyment of the poem.
A good poem for those not really into poetry, not too long, and not too difficult to understand.
March 4, 2020
I was re-introduced to this poem by a friend and I thank him for it, mentally at least, every time I read it-which is rather often. Perhaps it's a poem one savors more as one gets older. Having read the Odyssey in Greek in high school, and read it a number of times in several translations, since then, I obviously am attracted to the character. This poem is a nice capstone to the Odyssey. I wonder how a woman would take it as it does come across a bit chauvinistic.
December 1, 2021
We read this poem while learning about Homer and his famous epics, "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey." A beautiful, wistful verse, Tennyson captures the thoughts of a man seeing his death approach as he knows that he has grown old.
My favorite lines are these:
"I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move."
My favorite lines are these:
"I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move."
November 11, 2021
A poem that manages to be both stirring and a bit of a sobering one, Ulysses tells the story of a man who wants to go on one more great adventure, leaving his responsibilities to his wife and son. Is he a layabout, or a hero? It is a poem that turns on that axis, making it uniquely engaging for each reader as they read the poem and arrive at its ending.
July 21, 2022
"I am a part of all that I have met"
"Come, my friends,
'T is not too late to seek a newer world."
"Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
"Come, my friends,
'T is not too late to seek a newer world."
"Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
May 27, 2024
Tennyson এর 'Ulysses' কবিতাটি তাঁর 'লোটাস ইটার্স' কবিতার বিপরীত ভাব নিয়ে রচিত।
'লোটাস ইটার্স' কবিতায় বর্ণিত হয়েছে কর্মবিমুখতা ও আলস্য ।
অপরপক্ষে 'Ulysses' কবিতায় কর্মময়তার চিত্র তুলে ধরা হয়েছে।
'One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.'
27.05.24
'লোটাস ইটার্স' কবিতায় বর্ণিত হয়েছে কর্মবিমুখতা ও আলস্য ।
অপরপক্ষে 'Ulysses' কবিতায় কর্মময়তার চিত্র তুলে ধরা হয়েছে।
'One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.'
27.05.24
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