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What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.
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
Jesus
Spiritual
Christ
Soul
Sunshine
Flower
Lord
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Though thou wert scattered to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before Although the loss had brought us pain, That loss but made us love the more.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
God made thee good as thou art beautiful.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.
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
Evolution ever climbing after some ideal good, And Reversion ever dragging Evolution in the mud.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ah! well away! Seasons flower and fade.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.
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
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
Shall love be blamed for want of faith?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Whate'er thy joys, they vanish with the day: Whate'er thy griefs, in sleep they fade away, To sleep! to sleep! Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be past: Sleep, happy soul, all life will sleep at last.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
God gives us love! Something to love He lends us but when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone: This is the curse of time.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears, When we fall out with those we love And kiss again with tears!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new, That which they have done but earnest of the things which they shall do.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nature, so far as in her lies, imitates God.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
