Tennyson

He stands a god of graceful fight

An idyll of the world's beauty

Wielding lyrics of placid might

Preserved in subtle poetry

Englands ago he walked the earth

Shaping the plain's poetic charm

Giving the dull a sense of mirth

Painting the lands in pleasant calm

His art hums to a steady beat

Conducting nature's abstract pulse

Now I stand where he placed his feet

But all I see is false.

Reviews

[Alex Norman]

This is good, well done. I like the rhyming within the poem. Good description, and good imagery.