BREAK, break, break

BREAK, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson from Palgrave's Golden Treasury

P.S. - From what I know this poem was left untitled by Tennyson and "BREAK, break, break" is the first line of the poem. Am I wrong? Do let me know :-)