Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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Though thou wert scattered to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind.
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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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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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For love reflects the thing beloved.
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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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That man's the best cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.
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More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.
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Love will conquer at the last.
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He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
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Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life!
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All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.
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She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott.
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Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law Though Nature, red in tooth and claw With ravine, shrieked against his creed.
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We needs must love the highest when we see it.
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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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Because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.
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In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
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I am half-sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.
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It is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.
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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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All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon; All night has the casement jessamine stirr'd To the dancers dancing in tune; Till a silence fell with the waking bird, And a hush with the setting moon.
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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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Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die.
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He that wrongs a friend Wrongs himself more, and ever bears about A silent court of justice in his breast, Himself the judge and jury, and himself The prisoner at the bar ever condemned.