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In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
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
Love
Changes
Spring
Burnish
Flower
Livelier
Thoughts
Iris
Turns
Irises
Change
Dove
Young
Lightly
Men
Fancy
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
The dream Dreamed by a happy man, when the dark East, Unseen, is brightening to his bridal morn.
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A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The mighty hopes that make us men.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Love is the only gold.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The last great Englishman is low.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Either sex alone is half itself.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom, And heated hot with burning fears, And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd with the shocks of doom, To shape and use.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
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 son, thou hast not true humility, The highest virtue, mother of them all But her thou hast not know for what is this? Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and thy sins Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Oh yet we trust that somehow good will be the final goal of ill!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd That lie upon her charmed heart She sleeps: on either hand upswells The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest: She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The quiet sense of something lost
Alfred Lord Tennyson
France had shown a light to all men, preached a Gospel, all men's good Celtic Demos rose a Demon, shriek'd and slaked the light with blood.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Of old sat Freedom on the heights The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights She heard the torrents meet.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
