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Some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs.
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
Swans
Flood
Breasted
Wild
Plume
Pure
Ruffles
Cold
Webs
Takes
Carol
Full
Swan
Death
Carols
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
What is it all but a trouble of ants in the gleam of a million million of suns?
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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.
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The bearing and the training of a child Is woman's wisdom.
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
Where love could walk with banish'd Hope no more.
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God's finger touched him, and he slept.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods.
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Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings in tears, and skim away.
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Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.
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A louse in the locks of literature.
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Cast all your cares on God that anchor holds.
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There is always change, bad customs pass and give way to better ones.
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The noonday quiet holds the hill.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I stood on a tower in the wet, And New Year and Old Year met, And winds were roaring and blowing: And I said, O years, that meet in tears, Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? Science enough and exploring, Wanderers coming and going, Matter enough for deploring, But aught that is worth the knowing?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
