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He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
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
Hold
Shall
Passion
Dearer
Force
Thee
Littles
Spent
Better
Dog
Little
Horse
Something
Novel
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
He that wrongs his friend, wrongs himself more.
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The sin That neither God nor man can well forgive.
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The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
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The golden guess is morning-star to the full round of truth.
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I loved you, and my love had no return, And therefore my true love has been my death.
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Ah! well away! Seasons flower and fade.
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I stood on a tower in the wet, And New Year and Old Year met, And winds were roaring and blowing: And I said, O years, that meet in tears, Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? Science enough and exploring, Wanderers coming and going, Matter enough for deploring, But aught that is worth the knowing?
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Shape your heart to front the hour, but dream not that the hours will last.
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Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'.
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I will love thee to the death, And out beyond into the dream to come.
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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.
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The greater man the greater courtesy.
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Come, Time, and teach me many years, I do not suffer in dream For now so strange do these things seem, Mine eyes have leisure for their tears.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
You may tell me that my hand and foot are only imaginary symbols of my existence. I could believe you, but you never, never can convince me that the I is not an eternal reality, and that the spiritual is not the true and real part of me.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
God gives us love! Something to love He lends us but when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone: This is the curse of time.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
All is well, tho' faith and form Be sunder'd in the night of fear.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Though much is taken, much abides and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I waited for the train at Coventry I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge, To watch the three tall spires and there I shaped The city's ancient legend into this.
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A pasty costly-made, Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay, Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks Imbedded and injellied.
Alfred Lord Tennyson