Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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The sin That neither God nor man can well forgive.
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There is always change, bad customs pass and give way to better ones.
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Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool.
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There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.
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Nature, so far as in her lies, imitates God.
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Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.
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A still small voice spake unto me, 'Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be?
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Do we indeed desire the dead Should still be near us at our side ? Is there no baseness we would hide ? No inner vileness that we dread ? How many a father have I seen A sober man, among his boys Whose youth was full of foolish noise.
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You, methinks you think you love me well; For me, I love you somewhat; rest: and Love Should have some rest and pleasure in himself, Not ever be too curious for a boon, Too prurient for a proof against the grain Of him ye say ye love: but Fame with men, Being but ampler means to serve mankind, Should have small rest or pleasure in herself, But work as vassal to the larger love, That dwarfs the petty love of one to one.
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Any man that walks the mead In bud, or blade, or bloom, may find, According as his humors lead, A meaning suited to his mind.
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I will love thee to the death, And out beyond into the dream to come.
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Love lieth deep; Love dwells not in lip – depths; Love laps his wings on either side the heart Absorbing all the incense of sweet thoughts, So that they pass not to the shrine of sound.
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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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The bearing and the training of a child Is woman's wisdom.
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Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.
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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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For love reflects the thing beloved.
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Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to towered Camelot.
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The long mechanic pacings to and fro, The set, gray life, and apathetic end.
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We needs must love the highest when we see it.
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But for the unquiet heart and brain A use in measured language lies; The sad mechanic exercise Like dull narcotics numbing pain.
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The old order changeth, yielding place to new, and god fulfills himself in many ways, lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
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Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die.
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There is no land like England, Where'er the light of day be; There are no hearts like English hearts, Such hearts of oak as they be; There is no land like England, Where'er the light of day be: There are no men like Englishmen, So tall and bold as they be! And these will strike for England, And man and maid be free To foil and spoil the tyrant Beneath the greenwood tree.