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It is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.
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
Silence
Within
Littles
Music
Lute
Ever
Rift
Little
Widening
Make
Mute
Slowly
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I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods.
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She has a lovely face God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.
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On all things created remaineth the half-effaced signature of God, Somewhat of fair and good, though blotted by the finger of corruption.
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A louse in the locks of literature.
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It's better to have tried and failed than to live life wondering what would've happened if I had tried
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A simple maiden in her flower, Is worth a hundred coats of arms.
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The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
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Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.
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Love is hurt with jar and fret Love is made a vague regret.
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A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times.
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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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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.
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Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.
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Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark For though from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.
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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.
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And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech.
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In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past.
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She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.
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Not once or twice in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.
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For every worm beneath the moon Draws different threads, and late and soon Spins, toiling out his own cocoon.
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