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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
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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
Even
Spite
Private
Creatures
Heaven
Religion
Hate
Hates
May
Defence
Self
Uncertain
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The thrall in person may be free in soul
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The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself.
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This world was once a fluid haze of light, Till toward the centre set the starry tides, And eddied into suns, that wheeling cast The planets: then the monster, then the man.
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Cricket, however, has more in it than mere efficiency. There is something called the spirit of cricket, which cannot be defined.
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And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.
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Tis not your work, but Love's. Love, unperceived, A more ideal Artist he than all, Came, drew your pencil from you, made those eyes Darker than the darkest pansies, and that hair More black than ashbuds in the front of March.
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Nor at all can tell Whether I mean this day to end myself, Or lend an ear to Plato where he says, That men like soldiers may not quit the post Allotted by the Gods.
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Man's word is God in man.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Rain, rain, and sun! A rainbow in the sky!
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Man is the hunter women are the game those sleek and shining creatures of the chase. We hunt them for the beauty of their skins they love us for it, and we ride them down.
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Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
His honour rooted in dishonour stood, And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
For now the poet cannot die, Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry.
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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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I am going a long way With these thou seëst-if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)- To the island-valley of Avilion, Where falls not hail or rain or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
What was once to me mere matter of the fancy now has grown the vast necessity of heart and life.
Alfred Lord Tennyson