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The time draws near the birth of Christ The moon is hid the night is still The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist.
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
Birth
Bells
Answers
Hills
Christ
Near
Night
Christmas
Stills
Healing
Still
Draws
Time
Moon
Mist
Answer
Hill
More quotes by 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
And ah for a man to arise in me, That the man I am may cease to be!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
O hark,O hear! how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moans of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
My doom is, I love thee still. Let no man dream but that I love thee still.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
It may be that no life is found, Which only to one engine bound Falls off, but cycles always round.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Woman is the lesser man.
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
Many a night I saw the Pleiads, Rising thro' the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies, Tangled in a silver braid.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
So sad, so fresh the days that are no more.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
His honour rooted in dishonour stood, And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
For always roaming with a hungry heart.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Forgive! How many will say, forgive, and find a sort of absolution in the sound to hate a little longer!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
