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The year is dying in the night.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Alfred Lord Tennyson
Age: 83 †
Born: 1809
Born: August 6
Died: 1892
Died: October 6
Poet
Politician
Writer
Somersby
Lincolnshire
Alfred Tennyson
1st Baron Tennyson
Lord Alfred Tennyson
Alcibiades
A. Tennyson
Alfred Tennyson
Baron Tennyson
Alfred Tennyson Tennyson
Tennyson
1st Baron Tennyson of Aldworth and Freshwater Alfred Tennyson
Alfred Tennyson d'Eyncourt
Lord Tennyson Alfred
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Alfred
Lord Tennyson
Dying
Year
Night
Years
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
A louse in the locks of literature.
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But every page having an ample marge, And every marge enclosing in the midst A square of text that looks a little blot.
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This round of green, this orb of flame, Fantastic beauty such as lurks In some wild poet, when he works Without a conscience or an aim.
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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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The long mechanic pacings to and fro, The set, gray life, and apathetic end.
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Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
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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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All experience is an arch wherethro' gleams that untraveled world whose margins fade forever and forever as we move.
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For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid.
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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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And oft I heard the tender dove In firry woodlands making moan.
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A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times.
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A day may sink or save a realm.
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Oh that it were possible, After long grief and pain, To find the arms of my true love, Around me once again
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Be near me when my light is low... And all the wheels of being slow.
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The thrall in person may be free in soul
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Tis held that sorrow makes us wise.
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I am a part of all that I have met.
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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.
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The white flower of a blameless life.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
