Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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Ah, Christ, that it were possible, For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.
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A day may sink or save a realm.
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O earth, what changes hast thou seen!
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What was once to me mere matter of the fancy now has grown the vast necessity of heart and life.
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We cannot be kind to each other here for even an hour. We whisper, and hint, and chuckle and grin at our brother's shame; however you take it we men are a little breed.
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Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
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And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
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A smile abroad is often a scowl at home.
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God's finger touched him, and he slept.
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The quiet sense of something lost.
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Like a dog, he hunts in dreams.
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The woods decay, the woods decay and fall.
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In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold.
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No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.
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Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
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Yonder cloud That rises upward always higher, And onward drags a laboring breast, And topples round the dreary west, A looming bastion fringed with fire.
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The woods are hush'd, their music is no more; The leaf is dead, the yearning past away; New leaf, new life--the days of frost are o'er; New life, new love, to suit the newer day: New loves are sweet as those that went before: Free love--free field--we love but while we may.
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Nature is one with rapine, a harm no preacher can heal; The Mayfly is torn by the swallow, the sparrow speared by the shrike, And the whole little wood where I sit is a world of plunder and prey.
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And out of darkness came the hands that reach thro' nature, moulding men.
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The same words conceal and declare the thoughts of men.
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I have led her home, my love, my only friend. There is none like her, none, And never yet so warmly ran my blood, And sweetly, on and on Calming itself to the long-wished for end, Full to the banks, close on the prom- ised good.
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Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering, 'It will be happier.'
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By blood a king, in heart a clown.
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The time draws near the birth of Christ; The moon is hid; the night is still; The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist.