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The long day wanes the slow moon climbs the deep.
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
Slow
Moon
Deep
Long
Wanes
Climbs
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
What are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
There is always change, bad customs pass and give way to better ones.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A life of nothing's nothing worth, From that first nothing ere his birth, To that last nothing under earth.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
What rights are those that dare not resist for them?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A beam in darkness: let it grow.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The woman's cause is man's: they rise or sink Together.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And was the day of my delight As pure and perfect as I say?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone: And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Virtue!--to be good and just-- Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I know transplanted human worth will bloom to profit otherwhere.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
An English homegrey twilight poured On dewy pasture, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Love is the only gold.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
How fares it with the happy dead?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The Lord let the house of a brute to the soul of a man, And the man said, Am I your debtor? And the Lord--Not yet: but make it as clean as you can, And then I will let you a better.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nature, red in tooth and claw.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I know that age to age succeeds, Blowing a noise of tongues and deeds, A dust of systems and of creeds.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
