Break, Break, Break
Alfred Lord Tennyson
1809 to 1892
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. Take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
Easy Mode - Auto check enabled
That he shouts with his sister at play!
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
Will never come back to me.
And the sound of a voice that is still!
Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
O, well for the fisherman's boy,
O, well for the sailor lad,
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
To their haven under the hill;
And the stately ships go on
Break, break, break
The thoughts that arise in me.
That he sings in his boat on the bay!
And I would that my tongue could utter