Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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The year is dying in the night.
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My life has crept so long on a broken wing Through cells of madness, haunts of horror and fear, That I come to be grateful at last for a little thing.
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The words 'far, far away' had always a strange charm.
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This barren verbiage, current among men, Light coin, the tinsel clink of compliment.
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Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.
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Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone: And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky.
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The Lord let the house of a brute to the soul of a man, And the man said, "Am I your debtor?" And the Lord--"Not yet: but make it as clean as you can, And then I will let you a better.
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The sin That neither God nor man can well forgive.
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Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be… And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
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Come not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, To trample round my fallen head, And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save. There let the wind sweep and the plover cry; But thou, go by. Child, if it were thine error or thy crime I care no longer, being all unblest; Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time, And I desire to rest. Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie: Go by, go by.
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God and Nature met in light.
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Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly longed for death.
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The passionate heart of the poet is whirled into folly and vice.
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The thrall in person may be free in soul.
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That man's the best cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.
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France had shown a light to all men, preached a Gospel, all men's good; Celtic Demos rose a Demon, shriek'd and slaked the light with blood.
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Bible reading is an education in itself.
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And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after.
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I know that age to age succeeds, Blowing a noise of tongues and deeds, A dust of systems and of creeds.
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The last great Englishman is low.
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If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.
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Rich in saving common-sense, And, as the greatest only are, In his simplicity sublime.
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Nature, so far as in her lies, imitates God.
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For love reflects the thing beloved.