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Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
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
Lasts
Farm
Last
Farms
Water
Join
May
River
Ever
Till
Come
Rivers
Men
Rain
Brimming
Flow
Philip
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What rights are those that dare not resist for them?
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What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.
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Her eyes are homes of silent prayers.
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I am any man's suitor, If any will be my tutor: Some say this life is pleasant, Some think it speedeth fast, In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past. We laugh, we cry, we are born, we die. Who will riddle me the how and the why?
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Let observation with extended observation observe extensively.
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What is it all but a trouble of ants in the gleam of a million million of suns?
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Gorgonised me from head to foot With a stony British stare.
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Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.
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Here about the beach I wandered, nourishing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time.
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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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Come, my friends Tis not too late to seek a newer world Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die
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There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.
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Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell when I embark.
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There she weaves by night and day, A magic web with colors gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay, To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.
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The golden guess is morning-star to the full round of truth.
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Love will conquer at the last.
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Half the night I waste in sighs, Half in dreams I sorrow after The delight of early skies In a wakeful dose I sorrow For the hand, the lips, the eyes, For the meeting of the morrow, The delight of happy laughter, The delight of low replies.
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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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Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers Unfaith is aught is want of faith in all.
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That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
