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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
All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
All precious things, discover'd late, To those that seek them issue forth, For love in sequel works with fate, And draws the veil from hidden worth.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Attain the unattainable.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Oh for someone with a heart, head and hand. Whatever they call them, what do I care, aristocrat, democrat, autocrat, just be it one that can rule and dare not lie.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Our little systems have their day They have their day and cease to be… And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
We are all a part of every person we have ever met.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
An English homegrey twilight poured On dewy pasture, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Guard your roving thoughts with a jealous care, for speech is but the dialer of thoughts, and every fool can plainly read in your words what is the hour of your thoughts.
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
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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
But what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control these three alone lead one to sovereign power.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
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
Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light, The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow, Drops in a silent autumn night. All its allotted length of days The flower ripens in its place, Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil, Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Rich in saving common-sense, And, as the greatest only are, In his simplicity sublime.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I know that age to age succeeds, Blowing a noise of tongues and deeds, A dust of systems and of creeds.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The night comes on that knows not morn, When I shall cease to be all alone, To live forgotten, and love forlorn.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And statesmen at her council met Who knew the seasons, when to take Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
