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Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
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
Farewell
Taken
Cloud
Gone
Goodbye
Away
Clouds
Night
Leaving
Heart
Sun
Missing
Bye
Parting
Stars
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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.
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The woman's cause is man's: they rise or sink Together.
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All Life needs for life is possible to will.
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For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid.
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Ah, Christ, that it were possible, For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.
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Theirs is not to make reply: Theirs is not to reason why: Theirs is but to do and die.
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To me He is all fault who hath no fault at all: For who loves me must have a touch of earth.
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The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
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Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.
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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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I waited for the train at Coventry I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge, To watch the three tall spires and there I shaped The city's ancient legend into this.
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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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I am a part of all that I have met.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, oh sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.
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.
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As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
We needs must love the highest when we see it.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
