I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods.
Alfred Lord TennysonIt was my duty to have loved the highest; It surely was my profit had I known: It would have been my pleasure had I seen. We needs must love the highest when we see it, Not Lancelot, nor another.
Alfred Lord TennysonYonder cloud That rises upward always higher, And onward drags a laboring breast, And topples round the dreary west, A looming bastion fringed with fire.
Alfred Lord TennysonCome, my friends Tis not too late to seek a newer world Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die
Alfred Lord TennysonTwilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For though from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.
Alfred Lord TennysonThe parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart; one half will flutter here, one there.
Alfred Lord TennysonIt may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles whom we knew.
Alfred Lord TennysonLet 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 TennysonBut the churchmen fain would kill their church, As the churches have kill'd their Christ.
Alfred Lord TennysonI 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 TennysonJewels five-words-long, That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever.
Alfred Lord TennysonSweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.
Alfred Lord TennysonShe left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott.
Alfred Lord TennysonAre God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life; ... 'So careful of the type', but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, 'A thousand types are gone: I care for nothing, all shall go' ... Man, her last work, who seemed so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes, Who rolled the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law- Tho' Nature red in tooth and claw With ravine, shrieked against his creed.
Alfred Lord TennysonAll experience is an arch wherethro' gleams that untraveled world whose margins fade forever and forever as we move.
Alfred Lord TennysonO love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
Alfred Lord TennysonDear 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 TennysonThe woods are hush'd, their music is no more; The leaf is dead, the yearning past away; New leaf, new life--the days of frost are o'er; New life, new love, to suit the newer day: New loves are sweet as those that went before: Free love--free field--we love but while we may.
Alfred Lord TennysonIt is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.
Alfred Lord TennysonAnd what delights can equal those That stir the spirit's inner deeps, When one that loves but knows not, reaps A truth from one that loves and knows?
Alfred Lord TennysonAs she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
Alfred Lord TennysonI have led her home, my love, my only friend. There is none like her, none, And never yet so warmly ran my blood, And sweetly, on and on Calming itself to the long-wished for end, Full to the banks, close on the prom- ised good.
Alfred Lord Tennyson