Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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Trust me not at all, or all in all.
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Come, Time, and teach me many years, I do not suffer in dream; For now so strange do these things seem, Mine eyes have leisure for their tears.
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Earth is dry to the centre, But spring, a new comer, A spring rich and strange, Shall make the winds blow Round and round, Thro' and thro', Here and there, Till the air And the ground Shall be fill'd with life anew.
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And every winter change to spring.She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd That lie upon her charmed heart She sleeps: on either hand upswells The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest: She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest.
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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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Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.
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He that wrongs his friend, wrongs himself more.
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Dowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love.
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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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Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
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Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
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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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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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We love but while we may; And therefore is my love so large for thee, Seeing it is not bounded save by love.
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Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand the downward slope to death.
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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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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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I am half-sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.
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Attain the unattainable.
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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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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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Tis not your work, but Love's. Love, unperceived, A more ideal Artist he than all, Came, drew your pencil from you, made those eyes Darker than the darkest pansies, and that hair More black than ashbuds in the front of March.
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Her eyes are homes of silent prayers.
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One so small Who knowing nothing knows but to obey.