Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.
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The same words conceal and declare the thoughts of men.
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The world which credits what is done is cold to all that might have been.
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Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
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Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of: Wherefore, let they voice, Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
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She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.
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If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?
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Ah, when shall all men's good Be each man's rule, and universal peace Lie like a shaft of light across the land, And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, Thro' all the circle of the golden year?
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Authority forgets a dying king.
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She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthly bed; My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead; Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red.
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Science grows and Beauty dwindles.
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The white flower of a blameless life.
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That tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew.
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I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone.
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For every worm beneath the moon Draws different threads, and late and soon Spins, toiling out his own cocoon.
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The old order changes yielding place to new.
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Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills. Like footsteps upon wool.
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Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was love.
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I can't sleep without knowing there's hope. Half the night I waste in sighs. In a wakeful doze I sorrow. For the hands, for the lips... the eyes. For the meeting of tomorrow.
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The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
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God gives us love! Something to love He lends us; but when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone: This is the curse of time.
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Read my little fable: He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed.
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That man's the true Conservative who lops the moldered branch away.
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Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll ye the church bell sad and slow, And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying. Old year you must not die; You came to us so readily, You lived with us so steadily, Old year you shall not die.