Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes

My life has crept so long on a broken wing Through cells of madness, haunts of horror and fear, That I come to be grateful at last for a little thing.

There twice a day the Severn fills; The salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills.

The greater man the greater courtesy.

What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.

And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.

Live and lie reclined On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind. For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world.

Let me go: take back thy gift: Why should a man desire in any way To vary from the kindly race of men, Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance Where all should pause, as is most meet for all? ...Why wilt thou ever scare me with thy tears, And make me tremble lest a saying learnt, In days far-off, on that dark earth, be true? ‘The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.’ - Tithonus

My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.

There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.

As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.

For this is England's greatest son, He that gain'd a hundred fights, And never lost an English gun.

Men may come and men may go but I go on forever.

For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid.

Sweet is every sound, sweeter the voice, but every sound is sweet.

But what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.

In the long years liker they must grow; The man be more of woman, she of man.

All experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move.

So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.

Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.

Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.

No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.

The song that nerves a nation's heart is in itself a deed.

Too much wit makes the world rotten.

Launch your vessel, And crowd your canvas, And, ere it vanishes Over the margin, After it, follow it, FollowThe Gleam.

The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul Of that waste place with joy Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear The warble was low, and full and clear.

My purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset and the baths of all the Western stars until I die.

The white flower of a blameless life.

We needs must love the highest when we see it.

With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart.

And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.

Fill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born.

I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time.

Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.

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?

There's no glory like those who save their country.

I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.

Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life!

For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.

Some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs.

One so small Who knowing nothing knows but to obey.

For love reflects the thing beloved.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Science grows and Beauty dwindles.

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.

There she weaves by night and day, A magic web with colors gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay, To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.

And down I went to fetch my bride: But, Alice, you were ill at ease; This dress and that by turns you tried, Too fearful that you should not please. I loved you better for your fears, I knew you could not look but well; And dews, that would have fall'n in tears, I kiss'd away before they fell.