Quote

I came in haste with cursing breath, And heart of hardest steel But when I saw thee cold in death, I felt as man should feel. For when I look upon that face, That cold, unheeding, frigid brown, Where neither rage nor fear has place, By Heaven! I cannot hate thee now!

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

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
Feel
Hate
Neither
Haste
Feels
Fear
Saws
Steel
Heart
Death
Cold
Brown
Men
Felt
Came
Rage
Place
Face
Breath
Cannot
Heaven
Breaths
Look
Faces
Hardest
Frigid
Looks
Upon
Thee
Cursing

More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Image
Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
He is all fault who has no fault at all.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
He clasps the crag with crooked hands Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed 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
Image
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Sweet is true love, though given in vain.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Thoroughly to believe in one's own self, so one's self were thorough, were to do great things.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
The woman's cause is man's. They rise or sink Together. / Dwarf'd or godlike, bound or free miserable, / How shall men grow? - Let her be / All that not harms distinctive womanhood.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
The smell of violets, hidden in the green, Pour'd back into my empty soul and frame The times when I remembered to have been Joyful and free from blame.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
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
Image
This world was once a fluid haze of light, Till toward the centre set the starry tides, And eddied into suns, that wheeling cast The planets: then the monster, then the man.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
It was my duty to have loved the highest It surely was my profit had I known: It would have been my pleasure had I seen. We needs must love the highest when we see it, Not Lancelot, nor another.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
There she weaves by night and day, A magic web with colors gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay, To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.
Alfred Lord Tennyson