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Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.

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
Loneliness
Lonely
Ancient
Upon
Thatch
Weeded
Worn

More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson

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Nothing in Nature is unbeautiful.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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He clasps the crag with crooked hands Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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That man's the true Conservative who lops the moldered branch away.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Virtue!--to be good and just-- Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The smell of violets, hidden in the green, Pour'd back into my empty soul and frame The times when I remembered to have been Joyful and free from blame.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll ye the church bell sad and slow, And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying. Old year you must not die You came to us so readily, You lived with us so steadily, Old year you shall not die.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The song that nerves a nation's heart is in itself a deed.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a moulder'd string? I am shamed through all my nature to have lov'd so slight a thing.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The folly of all follies is to be love sick for a shadow.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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I have led her home, my love, my only friend. There is none like her, none, And never yet so warmly ran my blood, And sweetly, on and on Calming itself to the long-wished for end, Full to the banks, close on the prom- ised good.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Where love could walk with banish'd Hope no more.
Alfred Lord Tennyson