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Sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moans of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.
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
Sound
Hurrying
Elms
Voice
Lawn
Rivulets
Music
Innumerable
Moans
Every
Sweeter
Myriads
Lawns
Thro
Dove
Doves
Bees
Immemorial
Sweet
Murmuring
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
All is well, tho' faith and form Be sunder'd in the night of fear.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
There twice a day the Severn fills The salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Rich in saving common-sense, And, as the greatest only are, In his simplicity sublime.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
O mighty-mouthed inventor of harmonies, O skilled to sing of Time or Eternity, God-gifted organ-voice of England, Milton, a name to resound for ages.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd That lie upon her charmed heart She sleeps: on either hand upswells The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest: She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And was the day of my delight As pure and perfect as I say?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The greater person is one of courtesy.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Our wills are ours, we know not how Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The woman's cause is man's. They rise or sink Together. / Dwarf'd or godlike, bound or free miserable, / How shall men grow? - Let her be / All that not harms distinctive womanhood.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The thrall in person may be free in soul
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Theirs is not to make reply: Theirs is not to reason why: Theirs is but to do and die.
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
Man's word is God in man.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
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
Forgive! How many will say, forgive, and find a sort of absolution in the sound to hate a little longer!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
