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Dowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love.
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
Scorn
Hate
Love
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The quiet sense of something lost
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Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Do we indeed desire the dead Should still be near us at our side ? Is there no baseness we would hide ? No inner vileness that we dread ? How many a father have I seen A sober man, among his boys Whose youth was full of foolish noise.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Oh good gray head which all men knew!
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
A truth looks freshest in the fashions of the day.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Of happy men that have the power to die, And grassy barrows of the happier dead.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
She is coming, my own, my sweet Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthly bed My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A day may sink or save a realm.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nature, red in tooth and claw.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings in tears, and skim away.
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
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
He is all fault who has no fault at all.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And every dew-drop paints a bow.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
O son, thou hast not true humility, The highest virtue, mother of them all But her thou hast not know for what is this? Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and thy sins Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
His honour rooted in dishonour stood, And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
