This poem performs a bait-and-switch. The first nine lines read like a cheerful lyric about marital reconciliation—a couple argues over nothing, makes up, and the speaker philosophizes that "falling out" makes love stronger. Then line 10 drops: "For when we came where lies the child / We lost in other years." Suddenly we're reading an elegy.
The structure is deliberate misdirection. Tennyson buries the real subject (dead child, ongoing grief) under the surface subject (trivial argument). This mirrors how the couple has buried their child, how grief gets buried under daily life, how married people carry loss together without speaking it. The "falling out" wasn't random—it happened because they were walking to their child's grave, a journey that would strain any marriage.
Notice "We lost in other years"—not "we lost years ago" but "in other years," as if the past is a different country. The phrase creates distance while acknowledging the loss never fully recedes. The poem's present tense ("we went," "we fell out") collapses past grief into present experience. This isn't about one visit to a grave; it's about all visits, about marriage as the ongoing navigation of shared loss.