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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
Though thou wert scattered to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind.
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My mind is clouded with a doubt.
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O hark,O hear! how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
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Silence, beautiful voice.
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A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair.
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After-dinner talk Across the walnuts and the wine.
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Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to towered Camelot.
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.
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God and Nature met in light.
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Thoroughly to believe in one's own self, so one's self were thorough, were to do great things.
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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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That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.
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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.
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Ah, why Should life all labour be?
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I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men.
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Sweet is true love, though given in vain.
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All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon All night has the casement jessamine stirr'd To the dancers dancing in tune Till a silence fell with the waking bird, And a hush with the setting moon.
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To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
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Evolution ever climbing after some ideal good, And Reversion ever dragging Evolution in the mud.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nothing in Nature is unbeautiful.
Alfred Lord Tennyson