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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
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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
Hand
Statesmen
Freedom
Council
Hands
Occasion
Take
Occasions
Make
Bounds
Seasons
Mets
Statesmanship
Knew
Wider
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of: Wherefore, let they voice, Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
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Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.
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If I make dark my countenance, I shut my life from happier chance.
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Of old sat Freedom on the heights The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights She heard the torrents meet.
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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.
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Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand the downward slope to death.
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O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
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That man's the true Conservative who lops the moldered branch away.
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After-dinner talk Across the walnuts and the wine.
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The city is built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built forever.
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the shell must break before the bird can fly.
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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.
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There rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.
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The mirror crack'd from side to side The curse has come upon me, cried The Lady of Shalott
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Shall love be blamed for want of faith?
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Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
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The passionate heart of the poet is whirled into folly and vice.
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Science grows and Beauty dwindles.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
What was once to me mere matter of the fancy now has grown the vast necessity of heart and life.
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Because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
