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Whate'er thy joys, they vanish with the day: Whate'er thy griefs, in sleep they fade away, To sleep! to sleep! Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be past: Sleep, happy soul, all life will sleep at last.
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
Sleep
Griefs
Life
Lasts
Vanish
Last
Fade
Happy
Joys
Away
Grieving
Fades
Past
Grief
Whate
Soul
Joy
Mournful
Heart
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Is there evil but on earth? Or pain in every peopled sphere? Well, be grateful for the sounding watchword Evolution here.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Man is the hunter women are the game those sleek and shining creatures of the chase. We hunt them for the beauty of their skins they love us for it, and we ride them down.
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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
Man is man, and master of his fate.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
But what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
How fares it with the happy dead?
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If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?
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By blood a king, in heart a clown.
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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
The thrall in person may be free in soul
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Name and fame! to fly sublime Through the courts, the camps, the schools Is to be the ball of Time, Bandied in the hands of fools.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And every dew-drop paints a bow.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nothing in Nature is unbeautiful.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Faith lives in honest doubt.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
