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But for the unquiet heart and brain A use in measured language lies The sad mechanic exercise Like dull narcotics numbing pain.
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
Pain
Mechanic
Use
Measured
Heart
Dull
Like
Lies
Exercise
Brain
Unquiet
Lying
Numbing
Language
Narcotics
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He is all fault who has no fault at all.
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All experience is an arch wherethro' gleams that untraveled world whose margins fade forever and forever as we move.
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The mighty hopes that make us men.
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A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.
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For now the poet cannot die, Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry.
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That which we are, we are, and if we are ever to be any better, now is the time to begin.
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Love lieth deep Love dwells not in lip-depths.
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I can't sleep without knowing there's hope. Half the night I waste in sighs. In a wakeful doze I sorrow. For the hands, for the lips... the eyes. For the meeting of tomorrow.
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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.
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Sweet were the days when I was all unknown, But when my name was lifted up, the storm Brake on the mountain and I cared not for it. Right well know I that fame is half disfame.
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In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past.
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Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.
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Authority forgets a dying king.
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Men at most differ as Heaven and Earth, but women, worst and best, as Heaven and Hell.
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Is there evil but on earth? Or pain in every peopled sphere? Well, be grateful for the sounding watchword Evolution here.
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Rain, rain, and sun! A rainbow in the sky!
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Silence, beautiful voice.
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But every page having an ample marge, And every marge enclosing in the midst A square of text that looks a little blot.
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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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No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.
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