One writes, that ‘Other friends remain,’
One writes, that ‘Other friends remain,’That ‘Loss is common to the race’--And common is the commonplace,And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
That loss is common would not makeMy own less bitter, rather more:Too common! Never morning woreTo evening, but some heart did break.
O father, wheresoe’er thou be,That pledgest now thy gallant son;A shot, ere half thy draught be doneHath still’d the life that beat from thee.
O mother, praying God will saveThy sailor,--while thy head is bow’d,His heavy-shotted hammock-shroudDrops in his vast and wandering grave.
Ye know no more than I who wroughtAt that last hour to please him well;Who mused on all I had to tell,And something written, something thought;
Expecting still his advent home;And ever met him on his wayWith wishes, thinking, here to-day,Or here to-morrow will he come.
O! somewhere, meek unconscious dove,That sittest ranging golden hair;And glad to find thyself so fair,Poor child, that waitest for thy love!
For now her father’s chimney glowsIn expectation of a guest;And thinking ‘this will please him best,’She takes a riband or a rose;
For he will see them on to-night;And with the thought her colour burns;And, having left the glass, she turnsOnce more to set a ringlet right;
And, even when she turn’d, the curseHad fallen, and her future LordWas drown’d in passing thro’ the ford,Or kill’d in falling from his horse.
O, what to her shall be the end?And what to me remains of good?To her, perpetual maidenhood,And unto me, no second friend.
Words in this poem
- somewhere adv.
- In some place unknown or not specified; in one place or another.
- chimney n.
- A fireplace or hearth. Sir W. Raleigh.
- ringlet n.
- A small ring; a small circle; specifically, a fairy ring. [Ring + -let.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
One writes, that ‘Other friends remain,’ is in the public domain. This text is taken from In memoriam, Project Gutenberg ebook #70950; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Alfred Tennyson, One writes, that ‘Other friends remain,’, in In Memoriam A.H.H. (1850), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #70950, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/tennyson-in-memoriam/section-6.html, id L18366.
Form and metre
One writes, that ‘Other friends remain,’ is 44 lines in 11 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABBA. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%). 99% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.0 syllables. 1 line ends on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 25% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABBA remainA · raceB · commonplaceB · grainA
- 2 ABBA makeA · moreB · woreB · breakA
- 3 ABBA beA · sonB · doneB · theeA
- 4 ABBA saveA · bow'dB · shroudB · graveA
- 5 ABBA wroughtA · wellB · tellB · thoughtA
- 6 ABBA homeA · wayB · dayB · comeA
- 7 ABBA doveA · hairB · fairB · loveA
- 8 ABBA glowsA · guestB · bestB · roseA
- 9 ABBA nightA · burnsB · turnsB · rightA
- 10 ABBA curseA · lordB · fordB · horseA
- 11 ABBA endA · goodB · maidenhoodB · friendA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| One writes, that ‘Other friends remain,’ | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| That ‘Loss is common to the race’-- | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And common is the commonplace, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| And vacant chaff well meant for grain. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| That loss is common would not make | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| My own less bitter, rather more: | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Too common! Never morning wore | 8 | ·/˘/˘/˘· |
| To evening, but some heart did break. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| O father, wheresoe’er thou be, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| That pledgest now thy gallant son; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| A shot, ere half thy draught be done | 8 | ········ |
| Hath still’d the life that beat from thee. | 8 | ········ |
| O mother, praying God will save | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Thy sailor,--while thy head is bow’d, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| His heavy-shotted hammock-shroud | 8 | ·/˘/˘/˘· |
| Drops in his vast and wandering grave. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Ye know no more than I who wrought | 8 | ········ |
| At that last hour to please him well; | 8 | ···/···· |
| Who mused on all I had to tell, | 8 | ········ |
| And something written, something thought; | 8 | ·/˘/˘/˘· |
| Expecting still his advent home; | 8 | ˘/˘··/·· |
| And ever met him on his way | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| With wishes, thinking, here to-day, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Or here to-morrow will he come. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| O! somewhere, meek unconscious dove, | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| That sittest ranging golden hair; | 8 | ·/˘/˘/˘· |
| And glad to find thyself so fair, | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| Poor child, that waitest for thy love! | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| For now her father’s chimney glows | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| In expectation of a guest; | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| And thinking ‘this will please him best,’ | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| She takes a riband or a rose; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| For he will see them on to-night; | 8 | ········ |
| And with the thought her colour burns; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And, having left the glass, she turns | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Once more to set a ringlet right; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And, even when she turn’d, the curse | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Had fallen, and her future Lord | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Was drown’d in passing thro’ the ford, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Or kill’d in falling from his horse. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| O, what to her shall be the end? | 8 | ········ |
| And what to me remains of good? | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| To her, perpetual maidenhood, | 9 | ··˘/˘˘/˘˘ |
| And unto me, no second friend. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
On this poem
"Vacant chaff well-meant for grain."
A friend asks, "Why grieve?" "Other friends remain;" "Loss is common to the race;" as Hamlet's mother says, "All that live must die." Is this comfort? rather the contrary. We know it is so--
"Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break."
The father drinks his son's health at the war, in the moment when that son is shot.
The mother prays for her sailor-boy when
"His heavy-shotted hammock-shroud Drops in his vast and wandering grave."
The girl is dressing before the glass, and strives to array herself most becomingly for her expected lover; and he meanwhile is either drowned in the ford, or killed by a fall from his horse--
"O what to her shall be the end? And what to me remains of good? To her perpetual maidenhood, And unto me no second friend."
These were all as unconscious of disaster as was the Poet, who, "to please him well," was writing to Hallam in the very hour that he died.
There is a fine passage in Jeremy Taylor's "Holy Dying," which contains a like rumination on the uncertainty of life.
"The wild fellow in Petronius that escaped upon a broken table from the furies of a shipwreck, as he was sunning himself upon the rocky shore, espied a man rolled upon his floating bed of waves, ballasted with sand in the folds of his garments, and carried by his civil enemy the sea towards the shore to find a grave; and it cast him into some sad thoughts; that peradventure this man's wife in some part of the Continent, safe and warm, looks next month for the good man's return; or it may be his son knows nothing of the tempest; or his father thinks of that affectionate kiss which still is warm upon the good old man's cheek ever since he took a kind farewell, and he weeps with joy to think how blessed he shall be when his beloved boy returns into the circle of his father's arms.
"These are the thoughts of mortals, this is the end and sum of all their designs; a dark night and an ill guide, a boisterous sea and a broken cable, an hard rock and a rough wind dashed in pieces the fortune of a whole family, and they that shall weep loudest for the accident, are not yet entered into the storm, and yet have suffered shipwreck."
Notes from the edition 8
Section introductions from Alfred Gatty, <i>A Key to Lord Tennyson's “In Memoriam”</i>, 4th ed. (George Bell & Sons, 1900; Project Gutenberg #36637). Line notes credited “[Tennyson]” are Tennyson's own notes; “[Hallam Tennyson]” marks a note that is wholly his son and editor's own explanatory bracket, not the poet's own words; “[Emily Tennyson]” marks the few notes signed by his wife. All three are from <i>The Works of Tennyson, Annotated by the Author</i>, ed. Hallam, Lord Tennyson, vol. 3 (Macmillan, 1908; Internet Archive worksoftennysona03tennuoft). Line notes credited “[Bradley]” are A. C. Bradley's, from <i>A Commentary on Tennyson's In Memoriam</i> (Macmillan, 1910; Internet Archive commentaryontenn00braduoft). All these number sections by the final, 131-section text, not the site's own 1850 numbering: from final XL to LVIII subtract one section number, from LX on subtract two, to reach the site's; the site prints the 129-section first edition of 1850 (see the work's own blurb), so two of the final text's numbered sections have no home here and are skipped.
- Stanza 1, line 1 One writes, that ' Other friends remain] That ' Loss is common to the race ' — And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common ! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break. Cf. Lucretius ii. 578: Nee nox ulla diem neque noctem Aurora
secuta est,
Quae non audierit mixtos vagitibus aegris Ploratus.
My friend W. G. Ward, the well-known meta- physician, used to carry these two verses in his pocket— for he said that he felt so keenly that the vast sorrow in the world made no differ- ence to his own personal deep sorrows — but through the feeling of his own sorrow he felt the universal sorrow more terribly than could be conceived. [Cf. Memoir, i. 202; ib. 436. —ED.] [Tennyson] - Stanza 1, line 2 Cf. Hamlet, I. ii. 72:
Thou know'st 'tis common: all that lives must die. [Bradley] - Stanza 2, line 3 Collins compares Lucr. 11. 578-80:
Nee nox ulla diem neque noctem aurora secuta est, Quae non audierit mixtos vagitibus aegris Ploratus. [Bradley] - Stanza 4, line 3 These magnificent lines are hardly injured by the reminiscence of Richard III,, I. iv. 37:
but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast and wandering air. [Bradley] - Stanza 5 [My father was writing to Arthur Hallam in the hour that he died. — ED.] [Hallam Tennyson]
- Stanza 6, line 3 The inverted commas were added late. [Bradley]
- Stanza 7, line 2 'ranging': a favourite word with Tennyson, appear- ing often in his early poems, though not often in this sense. Cf. * the bee would range fier cells/ Two Voices. [Bradley]
- Stanza 11, line 1 Cf. the last four stanzas of LXXXV. / * [Bradley]
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.