From the Marrow-bone: The Religion of Poetry: The Poetry of Religion Book

Grief often becomes immovable. No matter how hard one tries, it gets difficult to not let it diffuse with time. Tennyson's In Memoriam is something similar. With Arthur Hallam's death, Tennyson is neck-deep in loss and his sadness and melancholy made him question all sort of changes. Although I want to say that this poem is too lengthy with the same thought repeating itself time and again, I won't. Who am I to question someone's words if the grief is as personal as Tennyson's? It is extremely difficult to criticize a work if one knows how personal it is.