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Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new, That which they have done but earnest of the things which they shall do.
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
Something
Reaping
Things
Earnest
Men
Brothers
Workers
Brother
Shall
Ever
Done
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
I do but sing because I must and pipe but as the linnets sing.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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
Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet- Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
We are all a part of every person we have ever met.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was love.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Red of the Dawn Is it turning a fainter red? so be it, but when shall we lay The ghost of the Brute that is walking and hammering us yet and be free?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
That man's the true Conservative who lops the moldered branch away.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
That man's the best cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And oft I heard the tender dove In firry woodlands making moan.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ah! well away! Seasons flower and fade.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
That which we are, we are.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before Although the loss had brought us pain, That loss but made us love the more.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
My mind is clouded with a doubt.
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
