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I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods.
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
Noble
Moods
Summer
Cage
Knew
Cages
Within
Void
Born
Rage
Never
Envy
Mood
Captive
Woods
Captives
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Here at the quiet limit of the world.
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All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.
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Too much wit makes the world rotten.
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So dear a life your arms enfold, Whose crying is a cry for gold.
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The white flower of a blameless life.
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Happy days roll onward leading up to golden years.
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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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Man's word is God in man.
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I can't be anonymous by reason of your confounded photographs. (To Julia Margaret Cameron)
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The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
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Some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs.
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Behold, we know not anything I can but trust that good shall fall At last-far off-at last, to all, And every winter change to spring.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
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Shape your heart to front the hour, but dream not that the hours will last.
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I heard no longer The snowy-banded, dilettante, Delicate-handed priest intone.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Man is the hunter women are the game those sleek and shining creatures of the chase. We hunt them for the beauty of their skins they love us for it, and we ride them down.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer And they crossed themselves for fear, All the Knights at Camelot But Lancelot mused a little space He said, She has a lovely face God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The woman is so hard Upon the woman.
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Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand Ring out the darkness of the land Ring in the Christ that is to be.
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The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul Of that waste place with joy Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear The warble was low, and full and clear.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
