While Tennyson was not surely homosexual (at least not openly), he enjoyed an intensely deep, personal relationship with his best friend, Arthur Hallam. When Hallam, who was engaged to Tennyson's sister, died, unexpectedly, at the age of 22, Tennyson was devastated for years. The intensity of the relationship is clear from his work"In Memorium" in which he chronicalled his slow journey from utter despair, through grief, slowly to a sad acceptance. In section 7 he describes how, after Hallam's death he returned to stand outside his friend's home just before dawn. Read the entire work and you can see the feelings plainly.

(kindly contributed by Steve)

Canto VII

"Dark house, by which once more I stand
     Here in the long, unlovely street,
     Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,

A hand that can be clasped no more-
     Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
     And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.

He is not here; but far away
     The noise of life begins again,
     And ghastly through the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day."

Canto XII

"Tears of the widower, when he sees,
     A late-lost form that sleep reveals,
     And moves his doubtful arms, and feels
His place is empty, fall like these;

Which weep a loss for ever new,
     A void where heart on heart reposed;
     And, where warm hands have prest and closed,
Silence, till I be silent too.

Which weep the comrade of my choice,
     An awful thought, a life removed,
     The human-hearted man I loved,
A spirit, not a breathing voice.

Come Time, and teach me, many years,
     I do not suffer in a dream;
     For now so strange do these things seem,
Mine eyes have leisure for their tears;

My fancies time to rise on wing,
     And glance about the approaching sails,
     As tho' they brought but merchant's bales,
And not the burden that they bring."

Canto XVIII

"'Tis well. 'Tis something, we may stand
     Where he in English earth is laid,
     And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.

'Tis little; but it looks in truth
     As if the quiet bones were blest
     Among familiar names to rest
And in the places of his youth.

Come then, pure hands, and bear the head
     That sleeps, or wears the mask of sleep,
     And come, whatever loves to weep,
And hear the ritual of the dead.

Ah yet, ev'n yet, if this might be,
     I, falling on his faithful head,
     Would breathing thro' his lips impart
The life that almost dies in me:

That dies not, but endures with pain,
     And slowly forms the firmer mind,
     Treasuring the look it cannot find,
The words that are not heard again."

Canto LIX

If, in thy second state sublime,
     Thy ransom'd reason change replies
     With all the circle of the wise,
The perfect flower of human time;

And if thou cast thine eyes below,
     How dimly character'd and slight,
     How dwarf'd a growth of cold and night,
How blanch'd with darkness must I grow!

Yet turn thee to the doubtful shore,
     Where thy first form was made a man;
     I loved thee, Spirit, and love, nor can
The soul of Shakspeare love thee more."

Canto CXXVII

Dear friend, far off, my lost desire,
     So far, so near, in woe or weal;
     O loved the most when most I feel
There is a lower and a higher;

Known and unknown, human, divine -
     Sweet human hand and lips and eye,
     Dear heavenly friend that canst not die,
Mine, mine, for ever, ever, mine -

Strange friend, past, present and to be;
     Loved deeplier, darklier understood
     Behold I dream a dream of good
And mingle all the world with thee."

Canto CXXVIII

"Thy voice is on the rolling air;
     I hear thee where the waters run;
     Thou standest in the rising sun,
And in the setting thou art fair.

What are thou then? I cannot guess;
     But tho' I seem in star and flower
     To feel thee some diffusive power,
I do not therefore love thee less:

My love involves the love before;
     My love is vaster passion now;
     Tho' mixed with God and Nature thou,
I seem to love thee more and more.

Far off thou art, but ever nigh;
     I have thee still, and I rejoice;
     I prosper, circled with thy voice;
I shall not lose thee tho' I die."

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