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Her court was pure, her life serene God gave her peace her land reposed A thousand claims to reverence closed.
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
Life
Sadness
Claims
Court
Gave
Reposed
Pure
Sad
Thousand
Serene
Land
Reverence
Peace
Closed
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
The bearing and the training of a child Is woman's wisdom.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
God made thee good as thou art beautiful.
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
Our little systems have their day They have their day and cease to be… And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light, The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow, Drops in a silent autumn night. All its allotted length of days The flower ripens in its place, Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil, Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
All things human change.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Science moves, but slowly, slowly, creeping on from point to point. ... Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns. ... Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
O Love! they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying! And answer, echoes, answer! dying, dying, dying.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nor is it wiser to weep a true occasion lost, but trim our sails, and let old bygones be.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Read my little fable: He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
After-dinner talk Across the walnuts and the wine.
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
There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear She is coming, my life, my fate The red rose cries, She is near, she is near And the white rose weeps, She is late The larkspur listens, I hear I hear And the lily whispers, I wait.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Virtue must shape itself in deed.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A beam in darkness: let it grow.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Who is wise in love, love most, say least.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
