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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.
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
Mother
Humility
True
Son
Save
Prowess
Sin
Hast
Losing
Thyself
Highest
Motherhood
Virtue
Sins
Lost
Thou
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the grief i feel, For words like nature,half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Forgive my grief for one removed Thy creature whom I found so fair I trust he lives in Thee and there I find him worthier to be loved.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
My life has crept so long on a broken wing Through cells of madness, haunts of horror and fear, That I come to be grateful at last for a little thing.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A pasty costly-made, Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay, Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks Imbedded and injellied.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Forgive! How many will say, forgive, and find a sort of absolution in the sound to hate a little longer!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
That which we are, we are.
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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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
I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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
Too much wit makes the world rotten.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
That man's the best cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
But every page having an ample marge, And every marge enclosing in the midst A square of text that looks a little blot.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I stood on a tower in the wet, And New Year and Old Year met, And winds were roaring and blowing: And I said, O years, that meet in tears, Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? Science enough and exploring, Wanderers coming and going, Matter enough for deploring, But aught that is worth the knowing?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Fill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Love is the only gold.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
