Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
O mighty-mouthed inventor of harmonies, O skilled to sing of Time or Eternity, God-gifted organ-voice of England, Milton, a name to resound for ages.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
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
Mighty
Name
Organs
Resound
Names
Gifted
Mouthed
Age
Ages
Harmonies
Voice
Harmony
Milton
Time
Sing
Skilled
Eternity
Organ
Inventor
England
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Yonder cloud That rises upward always higher, And onward drags a laboring breast, And topples round the dreary west, A looming bastion fringed with fire.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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
Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet- Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after.
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
Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone: And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
He that shuts love out, in turn shall be Shut out from love, and on her threshold lie, Howling in outer darkness.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills. Like footsteps upon wool.
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
I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Behold, we know not anything I can but trust that good shall fall At last-far off-at last, to all, And every winter change to spring.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
How many a father have I seen, A sober man, among his boys, Whose youth was full of foolish noise.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A pasty costly-made, Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay, Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks Imbedded and injellied.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The greater man the greater courtesy.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I do but sing because I must and pipe but as the linnets sing.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
There rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Bible reading is an education in itself.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad New Year,- Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be queen o' the May.
Alfred Lord Tennyson