Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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To me He is all fault who hath no fault at all: For who loves me must have a touch of earth.
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Believe me, than in half the creeds.
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Oh for someone with a heart, head and hand. Whatever they call them, what do I care, aristocrat, democrat, autocrat, just be it one that can rule and dare not lie.
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Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.
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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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Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly longed for death.
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Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die.
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A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.
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The long mechanic pacings to and fro, The set, gray life, and apathetic end.
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Trust me not at all, or all in all.
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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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I am half-sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.
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Here at the quiet limit of the world.
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A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.
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Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
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I am any man's suitor, If any will be my tutor: Some say this life is pleasant, Some think it speedeth fast, In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past. We laugh, we cry, we are born, we die. Who will riddle me the how and the why?
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The night comes on that knows not morn, When I shall cease to be all alone, To live forgotten, and love forlorn.
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This round of green, this orb of flame, Fantastic beauty; such as lurks In some wild poet, when he works Without a conscience or an aim.
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I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.
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God made thee good as thou art beautiful.
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I came in haste with cursing breath, And heart of hardest steel; But when I saw thee cold in death, I felt as man should feel. For when I look upon that face, That cold, unheeding, frigid brown, Where neither rage nor fear has place, By Heaven! I cannot hate thee now!
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The wind sounds like a silver wire, And from beyond the noon a fire Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher The skies stoop down in their desire; And, isled in sudden seas of light, My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight, Bursts into blossom in his sight.
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Love is hurt with jar and fret; Love is made a vague regret.
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And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.