Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
For this is England's greatest son, He that gain'd a hundred fights, And never lost an English gun.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
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
Hundred
Fights
Greatest
Gain
Fighting
Gun
Lost
Gains
Never
English
Son
England
Losing
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower-but if I could understand What you are, root and all, all in all, I should know what God and man is.
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
Alfred Lord Tennyson
He clasps the crag with crooked hands Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.
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
What rights are those that dare not resist for them?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room
Alfred Lord Tennyson
That man's the best cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after many summer dies the swan. Me only cruel immortality Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Launch your vessel, And crowd your canvas, And, ere it vanishes Over the margin, After it, follow it, FollowThe Gleam.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
We are self-uncertain creatures, and we may Yea, even when we know not, mix our spites And private hates with our defence of Heaven.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I do but sing because I must and pipe but as the linnets sing.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Not once or twice in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.
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
My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope thro' darkness up to God, I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Our wills are ours, we know not how Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
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
