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Follow the deer? Follow the Christ the King. Live pure, speak true,right wrong, Follow the King-- Else, wherefore born?
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
Wrong
Christ
Born
Wherefore
Speak
Deer
Else
King
True
Kings
Live
Follow
Right
Pure
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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
What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
All things human change.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
On all things created remaineth the half-effaced signature of God, Somewhat of fair and good, though blotted by the finger of corruption.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
It is hard to wive and thrive both in a year.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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
There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Trust me not at all, or all in all.
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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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
O last regret, regret can die!
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In the long years liker they must grow The man be more of woman, she of man.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The many fail: the one succeeds.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The song that nerves a nation's heart is in itself a deed.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
God made thee good as thou art beautiful.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd That lie upon her charmed heart She sleeps: on either hand upswells The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest: She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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
This barren verbiage, current among men, Light coin, the tinsel clink of compliment.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Any man that walks the mead In bud, or blade, or bloom, may find, According as his humors lead, A meaning suited to his mind.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Who is wise in love, love most, say least.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
