Sighs

"Half the night I waste in sighs, Half in dreams I sorrow after The delight of early skies; In a wakeful doze I sorrow For the hand, the lips, the eyes, For the meeting of the morrow The delight of happy laughter, The delight of low replies." --Alfred Lord Tennyson Put perfectly, don't you think? I cannot even begin to explain the levels I relate to this simple little stanza on. So simply it illustrates the frustration of adolescent and adult years. It makes me feel, if possible, less pathetic about circumstances. But at the same time, I wonder at the practicality of this 'feeling'. Is he saying that this emotion is fruitless? Does it mean that we're all just wasting our time in daydreams that are unrealistic and unrequitable?