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I heard no longer The snowy-banded, dilettante, Delicate-handed priest intone.
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
Longer
Banded
Heard
Dilettante
Dilettantes
Snowy
Priest
Handed
Priests
Delicate
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Tis not your work, but Love's. Love, unperceived, A more ideal Artist he than all, Came, drew your pencil from you, made those eyes Darker than the darkest pansies, and that hair More black than ashbuds in the front of March.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Cast all your cares on God that anchor holds.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
By shaping some august decree, Which kept her throne unshaken still, Broad-based upon her people's will, And compass'd by the inviolate sea.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, oh sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
For now the poet cannot die, Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll ye the church bell sad and slow, And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying. Old year you must not die You came to us so readily, You lived with us so steadily, Old year you shall not die.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
That man's the true Conservative who lops the moldered branch away.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd That lie upon her charmed heart She sleeps: on either hand upswells The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest: She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A louse in the locks of literature.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ah, why Should life all labour be?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The sin That neither God nor man can well forgive.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Be near me when my light is low... And all the wheels of being slow.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ring out the grief that saps the mind, for those that were here we see no more.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nature, so far as in her lies, imitates God.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
