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To me He is all fault who hath no fault at all: For who loves me must have a touch of earth.
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
Love
Hath
Fault
Faults
Loves
Touch
Earth
Must
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
So I find every pleasant spot In which we two were wont to meet, The field, the chamber, and the street, For all is dark where thou art not
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Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again.
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The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.
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Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar When I put out to sea.
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That tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew.
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Can calm despair and wild unrest Be tenants of a single breast, Or sorrow such a changeling be?
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Her eyes are homes of silent prayers.
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God's finger touched him, and he slept.
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For always roaming with a hungry heart.
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The woman is so hard Upon the woman.
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Blow trumpet, for the world is white with May.
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The old order changeth, yielding place to new, and god fulfills himself in many ways, lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
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My mind is clouded with a doubt.
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...and our spirits rushed together at the touching of the lips.
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There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.
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I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time.
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The jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honor feels.
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Name and fame! to fly sublime Through the courts, the camps, the schools Is to be the ball of Time, Bandied in the hands of fools.
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Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore, And the individual withers, and the world is more and more.
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What! I should call on that Infinite Love that has served us so well? Infinite cruelty rather, that made everlasting hell, Made us, foreknew us, foredoom'd us, and does what he will with his own Better our dead brute mother who never has heard us groan.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
