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She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room
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
Left
Three
Made
Paces
Camelot
Loom
Pace
Room
Rooms
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ah, Christ, that it were possible, For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.
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
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
And on her lover's arm she leant, And round her waist she felt it fold, And far across the hills they went In that new world which is the old.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
O last regret, regret can die!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And every dew-drop paints a bow.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Love's too precious to be lost, A little grain shall not be spilt.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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
My doom is, I love thee still. Let no man dream but that I love thee still.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
God gives us love! Something to love He lends us but when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone: This is the curse of time.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Love will conquer at the last.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold
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
The year is dying in the night.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The last great Englishman is low.
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
Rain, rain, and sun! A rainbow in the sky!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I am half-sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
