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Of happy men that have the power to die, And grassy barrows of the happier dead.
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
Men
Grassy
Happier
Dead
Dies
Happy
Power
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Battering the gates of heaven with the storms of prayer.
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The quiet sense of something lost
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I stood on a tower in the wet, And New Year and Old Year met, And winds were roaring and blowing: And I said, O years, that meet in tears, Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? Science enough and exploring, Wanderers coming and going, Matter enough for deploring, But aught that is worth the knowing?
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I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul
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To me He is all fault who hath no fault at all: For who loves me must have a touch of earth.
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Where love could walk with banish'd Hope no more.
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The city is built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built forever.
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God made thee good as thou art beautiful.
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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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That man's the true Conservative who lops the moldered branch away.
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I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.
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Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.
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Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore, And the individual withers, and the world is more and more.
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Blow trumpet, for the world is white with May.
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I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time.
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He that wrongs his friend, wrongs himself more.
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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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The folly of all follies is to be love sick for a shadow.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The song that nerves a nation's heart is in itself a deed.
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Live and lie reclined On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind. For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world.
Alfred Lord Tennyson