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Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Where Claribel low-lieth The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose-leaves fall: But the solemn oak-tree sigheth, Thick-leaved, ambrosial, With an ancient melody Of an inward agony, Where Claribel low-lieth.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson war
With blackest moss the flower plots Were thickly crusted, one and all; The rusted nails fell from the knots That held the pear to the gable wall. The broken sheds looked sad and strange: Unlifted was the clinking latch; Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.She only said, "My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!'
Alfred, Lord Tennyson life
He often lying broad awake, and yet Remaining from the body, and apart In intellect and power and will, hath heard Time flowing in the middle of the night, And all things creeping to a day of doom.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson art
Yet fill my glass: give me one kiss: My own sweet Alice, we must die. There's somewhat in this world amiss Shall be unriddled by and by. There's somewhat flows to us in life, But more is taken quite away. Pray, Alice, pray, my darling wife, That we may die the self-same day.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson life
Have I not found a happy earth? I least should breathe a thought of pain. Would God renew me from my birth I'd almost live my life again. So sweet it seems with thee to walk, And once again to woo thee mine — It seems in after-dinner talk Across the walnuts and the wine —
Alfred, Lord Tennyson life
mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. For now the noonday quiet holds the hill: The grasshopper is silent in the grass: The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead. The purple flower droops: the golden bee Is lily-cradled: I alone awake. My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim, And I am all aweary of my life.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, These three alone lead life to sovereign power. Yet not for power (power of herself Would come uncall'd for) but to live by law,Acting the law we live by without fear; And, because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson life
I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell. I said, "O Soul, make merry and carouse, Dear soul, for all is well."
Alfred, Lord Tennyson soul
You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; Tomorrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year; Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest merriest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson time
Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath Preluded those melodious bursts that fill The spacious times of great Elizabeth With sounds that echo still.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson war
At length I saw a lady within call, Stiller than chisell'd marble, standing there; A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson god
The great brand Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon, And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, Seen where the moving isles of winter shock By night, with noises of the northern sea.So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson light
When every morning brought a noble chance, And every chance brought out a noble knight.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson night
Half light, half shade, She stood, a sight to make an old man young.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson light
Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts? Or all the same as if he had not been? Not so. Shall Error in the round of time Still father Truth? O shall the braggart shout For some blind glimpse of freedom work itself Thro' madness, hated by the wise, to law System and empire? Sin itself be found The cloudy porch oft opening on the Sun? And only he, this wonder, dead, become Mere highway dust? or year by year alone Sit brooding in the ruins of a life, Nightmare of youth, the spectre of himself! If this were thus, if this, indeed, were all, Better the narrow brain, the stony heart, The staring eye glazed o'er with sapless days, The long mechanic pacings to and fro, The set gray life, and apathetic end.But am I not the nobler thro' thy love? O three times less unworthy! likewise thou Art more thro' Love, and greater than thy years.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
The slow sweet hours that bring us all things good, The slow sad hours that bring us all things ill, And all good things from evil, brought the night In which we sat together and alone, And to the want, that hollow'd all the heart, Gave utterance by the yearning of an eye, That burn'd upon its object thro' such tears As flow but once a life. The trance gave way To those caresses, when a hundred times In that last kiss, which never was the last, Farewell, like endless welcome, lived and died.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson life
My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson art
Meet is it changes should control Our being, lest we rust in ease. We all are changed by still degrees, All but the basis of the soul.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson change
But we grow old. 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?
Alfred, Lord Tennyson war
I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men, Who hold their hands to all, and cry For that which all deny them — Who sweep the crossings, wet or dry, And all the world go by them.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson men
As shines the moon in clouded skies, She in her poor attire was seen; One praised her ankles, one her eyes, One her dark hair and lovesome mien. So sweet a face, such angel grace, In all that land had never been. Cophetua sware a royal oath: "This beggar maid shall be my queen!"
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson men
Then some one spake: "Behold! it was a crime Of sense avenged by sense that wore with time." Another said: "The crime of sense became The crime of malice, and is equal blame." And one: "He had not wholly quench'd his power; A little grain of conscience made him sour." At last I heard a voice upon the slope Cry to the summit, "Is there any hope?" To which an answer peal'd from that high land, But in a tongue no man could understand; And on the glimmering limit far withdrawn God made Himself an awful rose of dawn.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson hope
Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson thoughts
Break, break, break At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson grace
But oh for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!
Alfred, Lord Tennyson voice
Come not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, To trample round my fallen head, And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save. There let the wind sweep and the plover cry; But thou, go by. Child, if it were thine error or thy crime I care no longer, being all unblest: Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time, And I desire to rest. Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie: Go by, go by.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring'd with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson world
We love not this French God, the child of hell, Wild War, who breaks the converse of the wise; But though we love kind Peace so well,We dare not even by silence sanction lies. It might be safe our censures to withdraw, And yet, my Lords, not well; there is a higher law.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson men
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground,Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after many a summer dies the swan. Me only cruel immortality Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world, A white-hair'd shadow roaming like a dream The ever-silent spaces of the East, Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson world
His deeds yet live, the worst is yet to come. Yet let your sleep for this one night be sound: I do forgive him!
Alfred, Lord Tennyson sleep
And the parson made it his text that week, and he said likewise, That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies, That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson truth
Speak to Him thou for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet — Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson wit
Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,Little flower — but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson man
Love lieth deep; Love dwells not in lip-depths.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson lie
Where love could walk with banish'd Hope no more.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
Thou that singest wheat and woodland, tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd; All the charm of all the Muses often flowering in a lonely word.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson ya
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.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson soul
For nothing worthy proving can be proven, Nor yet disproven: wherefore thou be wise,Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt, And cling to Faith beyond the forms of Faith!
Alfred, Lord Tennyson doubt
The shell must break before the bird can fly.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson hell
First pledge our Queen this solemn night, Then drink to England, every guest; That man's the best Cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
O young Mariner, You from the haven Under the sea-cliff, You that are watching The gray Magician With eyes of wonder,I am Merlin, And I am dying,I am Merlin Who follow The Gleam.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson wonder
Once at the croak of a Raven who crost it, A barbarous people, Blind to the magic, And deaf to the melody, Snarl’d at and cursed me. A demon vext me, The light retreated, The landskip darken’d, The melody deaden’d, The Master whisper’d‘Follow The Gleam.’
Alfred, Lord Tennyson people
Well, , would you like to know what I think of ? I think he's a Louse on the Locks of Literature.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson you
This laurel greener from the brows Of him that utter'd nothing base.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
And statesmen at her council met Who knew the seasons, when to take Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson freedom
Broad-based upon her people’s will, And compass'd by the inviolate sea.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson people
For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson good
A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this, To waste his whole heart in one kiss     Upon her perfect lips.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson art
As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her played, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson happy
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.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace! Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, While the stars burn, the moons increase, And the great ages onward roll.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson war
Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet! Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet; Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson change
More black than ash-buds in the front of March.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
We are ancients of the earth, And in the morning of the times.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson time
For now the poet can not die, Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson music
Mastering the lawless science of our law,— That codeless myriad of precedent, That wilderness of single instances.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson science
Insipid as the queen upon a card.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
O Love! what hours were thine and mine, In lands of palm and southern pine; In lands of palm, of orange-blossom, Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine!
Alfred, Lord Tennyson loss
So dear a life your arms enfold, Whose crying is a cry for gold.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson life
Read my little fable: He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson read
"I'll never love any but you," the morning song of the lark; "I'll never love any but you," the nightingale's hymn in the dark.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
My God, I would not live Save that I think this gross hard-seeming world Is our misshaping vision of the Powers Behind the world, that make our griefs our gains.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson world
The golden guess Is morning-star to the full round of truth.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson truth
No sound is breathed so potent to coerce And to conciliate, as their names who dare For that sweet mother-land which gave them birth Nobly to do, nobly to die.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson mother
A princelier-looking man never stept thro' a prince's hall.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson man
Slav, Teuton, Kelt, I count them all My friends and brother souls, With all the peoples, great and small, That wheel between the poles.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson people
The song that nerves a nation's heart Is in itself a deed.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson art
What use to brood? This life of mingled pains And joys to me, Despite of every Faith and Creed, remains The Mystery.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson life
Be patient. Our Playwright may show In some fifth act what this wild Drama means. 20
Alfred, Lord Tennyson wild
In our windy world What's up is faith, what's down is heresy.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson faith
A breath that fleets beyond this iron world And touches him who made it.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson world
Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson men
Ambition Is like the sea wave, which the more you drink The more you thirst—yea—drink too much, as men Have done on rafts of wreck—it drives you mad.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson men
The night with sudden odour reeled; The southern stars a music pealed.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson music
Death's truer name Is "Onward," no discordance in the roll And march of that Eternal Harmony Whereto the world beats time.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson war
...none can truly write his single day, And none can write it for him upon earth.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson art
A good woman is a wondrous creature, cleaving to the right and to the good under all change: lovely in youthful comeliness, lovely all her life long in comeliness of heart.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
"Written very early in life" — first published in 1830
Alfred, Lord Tennyson life
Thou who stealest fire, From the fountains of the past, To glorify the present; oh, haste, Visit my low desire! Strengthen me, enlighten me! I faint in this obscurity, Thou dewy dawn of memory.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson memory
In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest Thou leddest by the hand thine infant Hope. The eddying of her garments caught from thee The light of thy great presence; and the cope Of the half-attain'd futurity, Though deep not fathomless, Was cloven with the million stars which tremble O'er the deep mind of dauntless infancy.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
Come forth I charge thee, arise, Thou of the many tongues, the myriad eyes! Thou comest not with shows of flaunting vines Unto mine inner eye, Divinest Memory!
Alfred, Lord Tennyson man
Whither in after life retired From brawling storms, From weary wind,With youthful fancy reinspired, We may hold converse with all forms Of the many-sided mind, And those whom passion hath not blinded, Subtle-thoughted, myriad-minded.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson life
The poet in a golden clime was born, With golden stars above; Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
The poet in a golden clime was born, With golden stars above; Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love. He saw thro' life and death, thro' good and ill, He saw thro' his own soul. The marvel of the everlasting will, An open scroll, Before him lay; with echoing feet he threaded The secretest walks of fame: The viewless arrows of his thoughts were headed And wing'd with flame, Like Indian reeds blown from his silver tongue...
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
So many minds did gird their orbs with beams, Tho' one did fling the fire; Heaven flow'd upon the soul in many dreams Of high desire.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson dreams
Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the world Like one great garden show'd, And thro' the wreaths of floating dark up-curl'd, Rare sunrise flow'd. And Freedom rear'd in that august sunrise Her beautiful bold brow, When rites and forms before his burning eyes Melted like snow.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson truth
There was no blood upon her maiden robes Sunn'd by those orient skies; But round about the circles of the globes Of her keenAnd in her raiment's hem was traced in flame WISDOM, a name to shake All evil dreams of power — a sacred name. And when she spake, Her words did gather thunder as they ran, And as the lightning to the thunder Which follows it, riving the spirit of man, Making earth wonder,So was their meaning to her words. No sword Of wrath her right arm whirl'd, But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word She shook the world.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson dreams
Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Of me you shall not win renown: You thought to break a country heart For pastime, ere you went to town. At me you smiled, but unbeguiled I saw the snare, and I retired; The daughter of a hundred earls, You are not one to be desired.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson time
A simple maiden in her flower Is worth a hundred coats-of-arms.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
You sought to prove how I could love, And my disdain is my reply. The lion on your old stone gates Is not more cold to you than I.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson love
Her manners had not that repose Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson man
From yon blue heaven above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson heaven
Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere, From yon blue heavens above us bent The gardener Adam and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent. Howe'er it be, it seems to me,'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson faith
In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson music
There is no joy but calm!
Alfred, Lord Tennyson joy
Death is the end of life; ah, why Should life all labour be? Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast, And in a little while our lips are dumb. Let us alone. What is it that will last? All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past. Let us alone. What pleasure can we have To war with evil? Is there any peace In ever climbing up the climbing wave? All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave In silence; ripen, fall and cease: Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson life

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