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The old order changeth, yielding place to new, and god fulfills himself in many ways, lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
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
Place
Yielding
Many
Lest
Way
Custom
Good
Corrupt
World
Customs
Tradition
Ways
Order
Fulfills
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
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But the churchmen fain would kill their church, As the churches have kill'd their Christ.
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Here at the quiet limit of the world.
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In the long years liker they must grow The man be more of woman, she of man.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers Unfaith is aught is want of faith in all.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ah, why Should life all labour be?
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I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
She is coming, my own, my sweet Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthly bed My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red.
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Happy days roll onward leading up to golden years.
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Better not to be at all Than not to be noble.
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Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
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That man's the true Conservative who lops the moldered branch away.
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I found Him in the shining of the stars.
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The woman is so hard Upon the woman.
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I do but sing because I must and pipe but as the linnets sing.
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We are all a part of every person we have ever met.
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O hark,O hear! how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nature is one with rapine, a harm no preacher can heal The Mayfly is torn by the swallow, the sparrow speared by the shrike, And the whole little wood where I sit is a world of plunder and prey.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand the downward slope to death.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The city is built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built forever.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
