Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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And men, whose reason long was blind, From cells of madness unconfined, Oft lose whole years of darker mind.
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Is there evil but on earth? Or pain in every peopled sphere? Well, be grateful for the sounding watchword "Evolution" here.
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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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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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The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before; Although the loss had brought us pain, That loss but made us love the more.
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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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Many a night I saw the Pleiads, Rising thro' the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies, Tangled in a silver braid.
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Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.
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Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.
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Trust me not at all, or all in all.
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Dowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love.
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Either sex alone is half itself.
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You may tell me that my hand and foot are only imaginary symbols of my existence. I could believe you, but you never, never can convince me that the I is not an eternal reality, and that the spiritual is not the true and real part of me.
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He that wrongs his friend, wrongs himself more.
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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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So dear a life your arms enfold, Whose crying is a cry for gold.
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Arise, go forth, and conquer as of old.
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Science moves, but slowly, slowly, creeping on from point to point. ... Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns. ... Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.
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Of old sat Freedom on the heights The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights; She heard the torrents meet.
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Sweet is every sound, sweeter the voice, but every sound is sweet.
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And others' follies teach us not, Nor much their wisdom teaches, And most, of sterling worth, is what Our own experience preaches.
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Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love. News from the humming city comes to it It sound of funeral or of marriage bells.
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And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech.
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We love but while we may; And therefore is my love so large for thee, Seeing it is not bounded save by love.