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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
Seasons
Mets
Statesmanship
Knew
Wider
Hand
Statesmen
Freedom
Council
Hands
Occasion
Take
Occasions
Make
Bounds
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Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
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The long day wanes the slow moon climbs the deep.
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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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Willows whiten, aspens quiver, little breezes dusk and shiver, thro' the wave that runs forever by the island in the river, flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls and four gray towers, overlook a space of flowers, and the silent isle imbowers, the Lady of Shalott.
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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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There's no glory like those who save their country.
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I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.
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That which we are, we are.
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Oh good gray head which all men knew!
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It was my duty to have loved the highest It surely was my profit had I known: It would have been my pleasure had I seen. We needs must love the highest when we see it, Not Lancelot, nor another.
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A classic lecture, rich in sentiment, With scraps of thundrous Epic lilted out By violet-hooded Doctors, elegies And quoted odes, and jewels five-words-long, That on the stretched forefinger of all Time Sparkle for ever.
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I am on fire within. There comes no murmur of reply. What is it that will take away my sin, And save me lest I die?
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Tis held that sorrow makes us wise.
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She has a lovely face God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.
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You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad New Year,- Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be queen o' the May.
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Love will conquer at the last.
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Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love. News from the humming city comes to it It sound of funeral or of marriage bells.
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But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
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Sweet is every sound, sweeter the voice, but every sound is sweet.
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My life has crept so long on a broken wing Through cells of madness, haunts of horror and fear, That I come to be grateful at last for a little thing.
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