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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
Full
Swan
Death
Carols
Swans
Flood
Breasted
Wild
Plume
Pure
Ruffles
Cold
Webs
Takes
Carol
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For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid.
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The old order changes yielding place to new.
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Nature, red in tooth and claw.
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A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.
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More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.
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I sometimes find it half a sin, To put to words the grief i feel, For words like nature,half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.
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All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.
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It is hard to wive and thrive both in a year.
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But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
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No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.
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Strong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove.
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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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I can't sleep without knowing there's hope. Half the night I waste in sighs. In a wakeful doze I sorrow. For the hands, for the lips... the eyes. For the meeting of tomorrow.
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Tho' much is taken, much abides.
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The woman's cause is man's. They rise or sink Together. / Dwarf'd or godlike, bound or free miserable, / How shall men grow? - Let her be / All that not harms distinctive womanhood.
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Nor at all can tell Whether I mean this day to end myself, Or lend an ear to Plato where he says, That men like soldiers may not quit the post Allotted by the Gods.
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But while I breathe Heaven's air and Heaven looks down on me, And smiles at my best meanings, I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.
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Come, Time, and teach me many years, I do not suffer in dream For now so strange do these things seem, Mine eyes have leisure for their tears.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
