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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
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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
Past
Affection
Stills
Although
Still
Brought
Heart
Became
Made
Loss
Outward
Love
Type
Stillness
Pain
Unknown
Left
Breathing
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
I know transplanted human worth will bloom to profit otherwhere.
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...and our spirits rushed together at the touching of the lips.
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The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
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So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.
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The quiet sense of something lost
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Sweet is every sound, sweeter the voice, but every sound is sweet.
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I loved you, and my love had no return, And therefore my true love has been my death.
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Love lieth deep Love dwells not in lip-depths.
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And what delights can equal those That stir the spirit's inner deeps, When one that loves but knows not, reaps A truth from one that loves and knows?
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Because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.
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Rich in saving common-sense, And, as the greatest only are, In his simplicity sublime.
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The dream Dreamed by a happy man, when the dark East, Unseen, is brightening to his bridal morn.
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Every man, for the sake of the great blessed Mother in Heaven, and for the love of his own little mother on earth, should handle all womankind gently, and hold them in all Honor.
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An English homegrey twilight poured On dewy pasture, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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
the shell must break before the bird can fly.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past.
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I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
For this is England's greatest son, He that gain'd a hundred fights, And never lost an English gun.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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
