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Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a moulder'd string? I am shamed through all my nature to have lov'd so slight a thing.
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
Nature
Shamed
Thing
Harp
Life
Harps
Slight
String
Scorn
Strings
Shall
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
For always roaming with a hungry heart.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
She is coming, my own, my sweet Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthly bed My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I can't be anonymous by reason of your confounded photographs. (To Julia Margaret Cameron)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
What are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The city is built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built forever.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Too much wit makes the world rotten.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control these three alone lead one to sovereign power.
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
The quiet sense of something lost
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A day may sink or save a realm.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Happy he With such a mother! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him and tho' he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to towered Camelot.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
God's finger touched him, and he slept.
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
All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon All night has the casement jessamine stirr'd To the dancers dancing in tune Till a silence fell with the waking bird, And a hush with the setting moon.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
This round of green, this orb of flame, Fantastic beauty such as lurks In some wild poet, when he works Without a conscience or an aim.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
But for the unquiet heart and brain A use in measured language lies The sad mechanic exercise Like dull narcotics numbing pain.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
He is all fault who has no fault at all.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
