Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love. News from the humming city comes to it It sound of funeral or of marriage bells.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
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
Quite
Busy
Sound
Garden
Comes
Summer
Blooms
Love
City
Humming
World
News
August
Marriage
Wholly
Beyond
Bells
Cities
Funeral
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
I will be deafer than the blue-eyed cat, And thrice as blind as any noonday owl, To holy virgins in their ecstasies.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The mighty hopes that make us men.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
What are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ah, when shall all men's good Be each man's rule, and universal peace Lie like a shaft of light across the land, And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, Thro' all the circle of the golden year?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
For every worm beneath the moon Draws different threads, and late and soon Spins, toiling out his own cocoon.
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
Our wills are ours, we know not how Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
For love reflects the thing beloved.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
How fares it with the happy dead?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope thro' darkness up to God, I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.
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
Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower-but if I could understand What you are, root and all, all in all, I should know what God and man is.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
By blood a king, in heart a clown.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I heard no longer The snowy-banded, dilettante, Delicate-handed priest intone.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Love lieth deep Love dwells not in lip-depths Love laps his wings on either side the heart Absorbing all the incense of sweet thoughts, So that they pass not to the shrine of sound.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
She has a lovely face God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Happy he With such a mother! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him and tho' he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay.
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
All experience is an arch wherethro' gleams that untraveled world whose margins fade forever and forever as we move.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
