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I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the grief i feel, For words like nature,half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.
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
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More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly longed for death.
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Theirs is not to make reply: Theirs is not to reason why: Theirs is but to do and die.
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Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.
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And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after.
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Faith lives in honest doubt.
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Love lieth deep Love dwells not in lip-depths Love laps his wings on either side the heart Absorbing all the incense of sweet thoughts, So that they pass not to the shrine of sound.
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Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.
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There is always change, bad customs pass and give way to better ones.
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Life is brief but love is LONG .
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The dirty nurse, Experience, in her kind Hath fouled me.
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The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul Of that waste place with joy Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear The warble was low, and full and clear.
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Who loves not Knowledge? Who shall rail Against her beauty? May she mix With men and prosper! Who shall fix Her pillars? Let her work prevail.
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Man is the hunter women are the game those sleek and shining creatures of the chase. We hunt them for the beauty of their skins they love us for it, and we ride them down.
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Woman is the lesser man, and all thy passions, match'd with mine, Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine.
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This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse.
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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.
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I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods.
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To me He is all fault who hath no fault at all: For who loves me must have a touch of earth.
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Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear She is coming, my life, my fate The red rose cries, She is near, she is near And the white rose weeps, She is late The larkspur listens, I hear I hear And the lily whispers, I wait.
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