Quote

Shall the hag Evil die with the child of Good, Or propagate again her loathèd kind, Thronging the cells of the diseased mind, Hateful with hanging cheeks, a withered brood, Though hourly pastured on the salient blood?

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
Child
Diseased
Dies
Withered
Though
Hateful
Evil
Cheeks
Salient
Children
Hanging
Loath
Kind
Cells
Hourly
Mind
Blood
Propagate
Good
Shall
Brood

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Guard your roving thoughts with a jealous care, for speech is but the dialer of thoughts, and every fool can plainly read in your words what is the hour of your thoughts.
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Earth is dry to the centre, But spring, a new comer, A spring rich and strange, Shall make the winds blow Round and round, Thro' and thro', Here and there, Till the air And the ground Shall be fill'd with life anew.
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Love lieth deep Love dwells not in lip-depths.
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Those who depend on the merits of their ancestors may be said to search in the roots of the tree for those fruits which the branches ought to produce.
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O son, thou hast not true humility, The highest virtue, mother of them all But her thou hast not know for what is this? Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and thy sins Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself.
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One so small Who knowing nothing knows but to obey.
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As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.
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Love lieth deep Love dwells not in lip-depths Love laps his wings on either side the heart Absorbing all the incense of sweet thoughts, So that they pass not to the shrine of sound.
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In the long years liker they must grow The man be more of woman, she of man.
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Once in a golden hour, I cast to earth a seed, And up there grew a flower, That others called a weed.
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Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
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Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.
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Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens? If all the world were falcons, what of that? The wonder of the eagle were the less, But he not less the eagle.
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Ring out the false, ring in the true.
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Ah, when shall all men's good Be each man's rule, and universal peace Lie like a shaft of light across the land, And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, Thro' all the circle of the golden year?
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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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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
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Woman is the lesser man, and all thy passions, match'd with mine, Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine.
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It is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Whate'er thy joys, they vanish with the day: Whate'er thy griefs, in sleep they fade away, To sleep! to sleep! Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be past: Sleep, happy soul, all life will sleep at last.
Alfred Lord Tennyson