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Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower-but if I could understand What you are, root and all, all in all, I should know what God and man is.
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
Littles
Spring
Little
Flower
Crannies
Men
Wall
Pansies
Hold
Pluck
Hand
Springtime
Understand
April
Nature
Root
Hands
Roots
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nothing in Nature is unbeautiful.
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Either sex alone is half itself.
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So dear a life your arms enfold, Whose crying is a cry for gold.
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I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.
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He that wrongs a friend Wrongs himself more, and ever bears about A silent court of justice in his breast, Himself the judge and jury, and himself The prisoner at the bar ever condemned.
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And men, whose reason long was blind, From cells of madness unconfined, Oft lose whole years of darker mind.
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Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.
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The passionate heart of the poet is whirled into folly and vice.
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I can't be anonymous by reason of your confounded photographs. (To Julia Margaret Cameron)
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Though thou wert scattered to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind.
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Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
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Ring out the grief that saps the mind, for those that were here we see no more.
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There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.
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My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.
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Ah! well away! Seasons flower and fade.
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That tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew.
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Man's word is God in man.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
All experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of: Wherefore, let they voice, Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
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Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens? If all the world were falcons, what of that? The wonder of the eagle were the less, But he not less the eagle.
Alfred Lord Tennyson