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You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad New Year,- Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be queen o' the May.

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
May
Queens
Must
Wake
Years
Glad
Merriest
Time
Dear
Maddest
Early
Morrow
Call
Happiest
Year
Queen
Mother
Motherhood

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We love but while we may And therefore is my love so large for thee, Seeing it is not bounded save by love.
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Some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs.
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Man is man, and master of his fate.
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Nature, so far as in her lies, imitates God.
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Not once or twice in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.
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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.
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Never, oh! never, nothing will die The stream flows, The wind blows, The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die.
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Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
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Through the ages one increasing purpose runs.
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Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet- Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.
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Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light, The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow, Drops in a silent autumn night. All its allotted length of days The flower ripens in its place, Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil, Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
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Silence, beautiful voice.
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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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Is there evil but on earth? Or pain in every peopled sphere? Well, be grateful for the sounding watchword Evolution here.
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I can't be anonymous by reason of your confounded photographs. (To Julia Margaret Cameron)
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Arise, go forth, and conquer as of old.
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And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after.
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It's better to have tried and failed than to live life wondering what would've happened if I had tried
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And every dew-drop paints a bow.
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There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear She is coming, my life, my fate The red rose cries, She is near, she is near And the white rose weeps, She is late The larkspur listens, I hear I hear And the lily whispers, I wait.
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