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Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
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
Life
Sweet
Hopeless
Deep
Fancy
Days
Remembered
Death
Wild
Others
Kissing
Firsts
Lips
First
Dear
Feign
Love
Regret
Kisses
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Sweet were the days when I was all unknown, But when my name was lifted up, the storm Brake on the mountain and I cared not for it. Right well know I that fame is half disfame.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
It is unconceivable that the whole Universe was merely created for us who live in this third-rate planet of a third-rate moon.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The folly of all follies is to be love sick for a shadow.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peaceSleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,While the stars burn, the moons increase,And the great ages onward roll. Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feetLie still, dry dust, secure of change.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I am going a long way With these thou seëst-if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)- To the island-valley of Avilion, Where falls not hail or rain or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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, all in all, I should know what God and man is.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Shall the hag Evil die with the child of Good, Or propagate again her loathèd kind, Thronging the cells of the diseased mind, Hateful with hanging cheeks, a withered brood, Though hourly pastured on the salient blood?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The old order changeth, yielding place to new, and god fulfills himself in many ways, lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And o'er the hills, and far away Beyond their utmost purple rim, Beyond the night, across the day, Thro' all the world she follow'd him.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A simple maiden in her flower, Is worth a hundred coats of arms.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll ye the church bell sad and slow, And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying. Old year you must not die You came to us so readily, You lived with us so steadily, Old year you shall not die.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The passionate heart of the poet is whirled into folly and vice.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Strong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Guard your roving thoughts with a jealous care, for speech is but the dialer of thoughts, and every fool can plainly read in your words what is the hour of your thoughts.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
