Quote

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.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

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
Poet
Round
Works
Aim
Beauty
Rounds
Without
Fantastic
Wild
Orbs
Conscience
Lurks
Atheism
Flame
Green
Flames

More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Image
What rights are those that dare not resist for them?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Ring out the grief that saps the mind, for those that were here we see no more.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Men may come and men may go but I go on forever.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the grief i feel, For words like nature,half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Sweet is true love, though given in vain.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
But thy strong Hours indignant work’d their wills, And beat me down and marr’d and wasted me, And tho’ they could not end me, left me maim’d To dwell in presence of immortal youth, Immortal age beside immortal youth, And all I was, in ashes. - Tithonus
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Who loves not Knowledge? Who shall rail Against her beauty? May she mix With men and prosper! Who shall fix Her pillars? Let her work prevail.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
...and our spirits rushed together at the touching of the lips.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Yonder cloud That rises upward always higher, And onward drags a laboring breast, And topples round the dreary west, A looming bastion fringed with fire.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
O Love! they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying! And answer, echoes, answer! dying, dying, dying.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moans of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Cast all your cares on God that anchor holds.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear She is coming, my life, my fate The red rose cries, She is near, she is near And the white rose weeps, She is late The larkspur listens, I hear I hear And the lily whispers, I wait.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
It's better to have tried and failed than to live life wondering what would've happened if I had tried
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
There twice a day the Severn fills The salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Rain, rain, and sun! A rainbow in the sky!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Image
Here at the quiet limit of the world.
Alfred Lord Tennyson