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Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die.
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
Thinks
Dying
Dies
Death
Made
Men
Thinking
Thou
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Man's word is God in man.
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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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Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver.
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That man's the best cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.
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Not once or twice in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Of old sat Freedom on the heights The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights She heard the torrents meet.
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A smile abroad is often a scowl at home.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
We needs must love the highest when we see it.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Tis not your work, but Love's. Love, unperceived, A more ideal Artist he than all, Came, drew your pencil from you, made those eyes Darker than the darkest pansies, and that hair More black than ashbuds in the front of March.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I do but sing because I must and pipe but as the linnets sing.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Be near me when my light is low... And all the wheels of being slow.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Attain the unattainable.
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After-dinner talk Across the walnuts and the wine.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
What rights are those that dare not resist for them?
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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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And every dew-drop paints a bow.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Earth is dry to the centre, But spring, a new comer, A spring rich and strange, Shall make the winds blow Round and round, Thro' and thro', Here and there, Till the air And the ground Shall be fill'd with life anew.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Read my little fable: He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed.
Alfred Lord Tennyson