Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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Not once or twice in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.
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Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.
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We are self-uncertain creatures, and we may Yea, even when we know not, mix our spites And private hates with our defence of Heaven.
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The city is built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built forever.
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Of happy men that have the power to die, And grassy barrows of the happier dead.
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The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart; one half will flutter here, one there.
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Do we indeed desire the dead Should still be near us at our side ? Is there no baseness we would hide ? No inner vileness that we dread ? How many a father have I seen A sober man, among his boys Whose youth was full of foolish noise.
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The golden guess is morning-star to the full round of truth.
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Let observation with extended observation observe extensively.
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Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.
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All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.
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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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Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.
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There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.
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Thoroughly to believe in one's own self, so one's self were thorough, were to do great things.
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Nature, so far as in her lies, imitates God.
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Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone: And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky.
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For this is England's greatest son, He that gain'd a hundred fights, And never lost an English gun.
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Half the night I waste in sighs, Half in dreams I sorrow after The delight of early skies; In a wakeful dose I sorrow For the hand, the lips, the eyes, For the meeting of the morrow, The delight of happy laughter, The delight of low replies.
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Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool.
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O hark,O hear! how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
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But while I breathe Heaven's air and Heaven looks down on me, And smiles at my best meanings, I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.
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Love's arms were wreathed about the neck of Hope, And Hope kiss'd Love, and Love drew in her breath In that close kiss and drank her whisper'd tales. They said that Love would die when Hope was gone. And Love mourn'd long, and sorrow'd after Hope; At last she sought out Memory, and they trod The same old paths where Love had walked with Hope, And Memory fed the soul of Love with tears.
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Because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.