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Nature is one with rapine, a harm no preacher can heal The Mayfly is torn by the swallow, the sparrow speared by the shrike, And the whole little wood where I sit is a world of plunder and prey.
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
Harm
Plunder
Nature
Swallow
Littles
Prey
Little
Preacher
Whole
Wood
World
Torn
Rapine
Heal
Sparrow
Woods
Sparrows
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
And every dew-drop paints a bow.
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O Love! what hours were thine and mine, In lands of palm and southern pine In lands of palm, of orange-blossom, Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine!
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The song that nerves a nation's heart is in itself a deed.
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Things seen are mightier than things heard.
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There's no glory like those who save their country.
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Ah, Christ, that it were possible, For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.
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Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.
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'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
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I can't be anonymous by reason of your confounded photographs. (To Julia Margaret Cameron)
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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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The thrall in person may be free in soul
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This round of green, this orb of flame, Fantastic beauty such as lurks In some wild poet, when he works Without a conscience or an aim.
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There is always change, bad customs pass and give way to better ones.
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This barren verbiage, current among men, Light coin, the tinsel clink of compliment.
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Rain, rain, and sun! A rainbow in the sky!
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A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.
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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.
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I do but sing because I must and pipe but as the linnets sing.
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Rich in saving common-sense, And, as the greatest only are, In his simplicity sublime.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Better not be at all than not be noble.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
