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In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
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
Land
Unto
Came
Hath
Dream
Afternoon
Always
Round
Like
Rounds
Swoon
Breathing
Languid
Seemed
Coast
Air
Weary
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There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.
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Many a night I saw the Pleiads, Rising thro' the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies, Tangled in a silver braid.
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O Love! what hours were thine and mine, In lands of palm and southern pine In lands of palm, of orange-blossom, Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine!
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More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.
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Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand the downward slope to death.
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I thought I could not breathe in that fine air That pure severity of perfect light I yearned for warmth and colour which I found In Lancelot.
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Either sex alone is half itself.
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I heard no longer The snowy-banded, dilettante, Delicate-handed priest intone.
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A louse in the locks of literature.
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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.
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Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand Ring out the darkness of the land Ring in the Christ that is to be.
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The dirty nurse, Experience, in her kind Hath fouled me.
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Arise, go forth, and conquer as of old.
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Ring out the grief that saps the mind, for those that were here we see no more.
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Man is man, and master of his fate.
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Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver.
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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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Where love could walk with banish'd Hope no more.
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Shall the hag Evil die with the child of Good, Or propagate again her loathèd kind, Thronging the cells of the diseased mind, Hateful with hanging cheeks, a withered brood, Though hourly pastured on the salient blood?
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This world was once a fluid haze of light, Till toward the centre set the starry tides, And eddied into suns, that wheeling cast The planets: then the monster, then the man.
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