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Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.
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
Lies
Eyes
Lying
Upon
Eye
Spirit
Eyelids
Music
Musical
Tired
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself.
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What was once to me mere matter of the fancy now has grown the vast necessity of heart and life.
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The thrall in person may be free in soul
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We are ancients of the earth, And in the morning of the times.
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I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time.
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Jewels five-words-long, That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever.
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The jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honor feels.
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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.
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Love lieth deep Love dwells not in lip-depths.
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Science moves, but slowly, slowly, creeping on from point to point. ... Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns. ... Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.
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Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a moulder'd string? I am shamed through all my nature to have lov'd so slight a thing.
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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.
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O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
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Authority forgets a dying king.
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Yet is there one true line, the pearl of pearls: Man dreams of Fame while woman wakes to love.
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As the husband is, the wife is.
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Virtue!--to be good and just-- Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell.
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And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
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Willows whiten, aspens quiver, little breezes dusk and shiver, thro' the wave that runs forever by the island in the river, flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls and four gray towers, overlook a space of flowers, and the silent isle imbowers, the Lady of Shalott.
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Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.
Alfred Lord Tennyson