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And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.
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
Years
Round
Men
Rounds
Minds
Among
Strange
Days
Faces
Mind
Darken
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The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart one half will flutter here, one there.
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A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair.
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We love but while we may And therefore is my love so large for thee, Seeing it is not bounded save by love.
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O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
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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.
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I am on fire within. There comes no murmur of reply. What is it that will take away my sin, And save me lest I die?
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Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, oh sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.
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Who is wise in love, love most, say least.
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What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.
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Faith lives in honest doubt.
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The night comes on that knows not morn, When I shall cease to be all alone, To live forgotten, and love forlorn.
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Is there evil but on earth? Or pain in every peopled sphere? Well, be grateful for the sounding watchword Evolution here.
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That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break.
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And statesmen at her council met Who knew the seasons, when to take Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet.
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Sweet is true love, though given in vain.
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Nature is one with rapine, a harm no preacher can heal The Mayfly is torn by the swallow, the sparrow speared by the shrike, And the whole little wood where I sit is a world of plunder and prey.
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And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after.
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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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She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room
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