Fahad Hameed

Fahad Hashmi is one of the known Software Engineer and blogger likes to blog about design resources. He is passionate about collecting the awe-inspiring design tools, to help designers.He blogs only for Designers & Photographers.

19 thoughts on “Penny Dreadful-Vanessa plays Tennyson’s Poem

  • September 25, 2017 at 8:06 pm

    from Maud (Part XVIII): I have led her Home, my love, my only friend
    I have led her home, my love, my only friend,
    There is none like her, none.
    And never yet so warmly ran my blood
    And sweetly, on and on
    Calming itself to the long-wished-for end,
    Full to the banks, close on the promised good.

    None like her, none.
    Just now the dry-tongued laurels’ pattering talk
    Seem’d her light foot along the garden walk,
    And shook my heart to think she comes once more;
    But even then I heard her close the door,
    The gates of Heaven are closed, and she is gone.

    There is none like her, none.
    Nor will be when our summers have deceased.
    O, art thou sighing for Lebanon
    In the long breeze that streams to thy delicious East,
    Sighing for Lebanon,
    Dark cedar, tho’ thy limbs have here increased,
    Upon a pastoral slope as fair,

    And looking to the South, and fed
    With honeyed rain and delicate air,
    And haunted by the starry head
    Of her whose gentle will has changed my fate,
    And made my life a perfumed altar-frame;
    And over whom thy darkness must have spread
    With such delight as theirs of old, thy great
    Forefathers of the thornless garden, there
    Shadowing the snow-limbed Eve from whom she came.

    Here will I lie, while these long branches sway,
    And you fair stars that crown a happy day
    Go in and out as if at merry play,
    Who am no more so all forlorn,
    As when it seemed far better to be born
    To labour and the mattock-hardened hand
    Than nursed at ease and brought to understand
    A sad astrology, the boundless plan
    That makes you tyrants in your iron skies,
    Innumerable, pitiless, passionless eyes,
    Cold fires, yet with power to burn and brand
    His nothingness into man.

    But now shine on, and what care I,
    Who in this stormy gulf have found a pearl
    The countercharm of space and hollow sky,
    And do accept my madness, and would die
    To save from some slight shame one simple girl.

    Would die; for sullen-seeming Death may give
    More life to Love than is or ever was
    In our low world, where yet ’tis sweet to live.
    Let no one ask me how it came to pass;
    It seems that I am happy, that to me
    A livelier emerald twinkles in the grass,
    A purer sapphire melts into the sea.

    Not die; but live a life of truest breath,
    And teach true life to fight with mortal wrongs.
    Oh, why should Love, like men in drinking-songs,
    Spice his fair banquet with the dust of death?

    Make answer, Maud my bliss,
    Maud made my Maud by that long loving kiss,
    Life of my life, wilt thou not answer this?
    “The dusky strand of Death inwoven here
    With dear Love’s tie, makes love himself more dear.”
    Is that enchanted moan only the swell
    Of the long waves that roll in yonder bay?
    And hark the clock within, the silver knell
    Of twelve sweet hours that past in bridal white,
    And die to live, long as my pulses play;
    But now by this my love has closed her sight
    And given false death her hand, and stol’n away
    To dreamful wastes where footless fancies dwell

    Among the fragments of the golden day.
    May nothing there her maiden grace affright!
    Dear heart, I feel with thee the drowsy spell.
    My bride to be, my evermore delight,
    My own heart’s heart, my ownest own, farewell;
    It is but for a little space I go:
    And ye meanwhile far over moor and fell
    Beat to the noiseless music of the night!
    Has our whole earth gone nearer to the glow
    Of your soft splendour that you look so bright?
    I have climbed nearer out of lonely Hell.
    Beat, happy stars, timing with things below,
    Beat with my heart more blest than heart can tell.
    Blest, but for some dark undercurrent woe
    That seems to draw—but it shall not be so:
    Let all be well, be well.

  • September 25, 2017 at 8:06 pm

    I can imagine this as the ending scene to the series. I wish it was this little scene and not her death

  • September 25, 2017 at 8:06 pm

    The poetry recited is an extract from Tennyson's "Maud" – Part I, XVIII (8.)

  • September 25, 2017 at 8:06 pm

    You know what is beautiful too? No dislike. Only good spirits came here.

  • September 25, 2017 at 8:06 pm

    Beat happy stars, timing with things below, Beat with my heart more blest than heart can tell, Blest, but for some dark undercurrent of woe that seems to draw-but it shall not be so.. Let all be well, be well

  • September 25, 2017 at 8:06 pm

    her acting is beyond words. Straight to the heart she always goes.


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