Tennyson

Here's a snippet of Tennyson [1809-1892], there's more here with many poems/lines he left out from finished copies. This is a good example of how poetry can be spare and beautiful--look past the language of yesteryear and see the simple truth of nature's loveliness, and there's even a hint of the unknowability of the universe here. The mysterious revelation of our mere existence is so strange and beyond total understanding, poetry often captures this reality. It can capture our feelings of wonder, concern, worry and confusion. 

It can transport you, you just have to find the right poet--there's a poet for everyone out there. This excerpt is from "Poems Chiefly Lyrical":

V

Song

I

Every day hath its night:

Every night its morn:

Through dark and bright

Wingèd hours are borne;

Ah! welaway!

Seasons flower and fade;

Golden calm and storm

Mingle day by day.

There is no bright form

Doth not cast a shade—

Ah! welaway!

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