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The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart one half will flutter here, one there.
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
Wife
Half
Heart
Like
Cleaving
Flutter
Parting
Husband
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Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
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France had shown a light to all men, preached a Gospel, all men's good Celtic Demos rose a Demon, shriek'd and slaked the light with blood.
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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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He that wrongs his friend, wrongs himself more.
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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.
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Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills. Like footsteps upon wool.
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God and Nature met in light.
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Though much is taken, much abides and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
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There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.
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Life is brief but love is LONG .
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Battering the gates of heaven with the storms of prayer.
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As the husband is, the wife is.
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I hold it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
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The year is dying in the night.
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I am any man's suitor, If any will be my tutor: Some say this life is pleasant, Some think it speedeth fast, In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past. We laugh, we cry, we are born, we die. Who will riddle me the how and the why?
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Love is hurt with jar and fret Love is made a vague regret.
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For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.
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How many a father have I seen, A sober man, among his boys, Whose youth was full of foolish noise.
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Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
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I loved you, and my love had no return, And therefore my true love has been my death.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
