17th June 1861.
The sea holds jubilee this sunny morn
And I with heart content upon its verge
Join in the laughter of the breaking waves.
And glad, right glad the sympathetic land,
Shaking her hazel tresses in her mirth
While all her copses tremble into song.
The thickset trees which crowd the Undercliff
The scented woodbine on the neighbouring knoll—
The foxglove shaking all its purple bells—
And roses blushing mid the tender green—
All blend into a bouquet for the sight:
But not for sight alone, for beauty sends
Its finer essence down into the heart.
Lady! my friend—thou surely wilt not frown,
If lingering here I miss that other joy
Of meeting thee and thine to-morrow night!
J.T. | Monday 17th June 1861.
RI MS JT/1/T/1538
RI MS JT/1/TYP/6/1978
Tyndall noted this poem he sent to Juliet Pollock in his journal (RI MS JT/2/13c/1219). He had gone to the Isle of Wight on 16 June. He returned on 19 June and slept for the first time in the house at 14 Waverley Place that he shared with Thomas Hirst.
Please cite as “Tyndall1788,” in Ɛpsilon: The John Tyndall Collection accessed on