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.
Alfred Lord TennysonThere 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.
Alfred Lord TennysonAnd this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
Alfred Lord TennysonTears, 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.
Alfred Lord TennysonLive 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.
Alfred Lord TennysonLet 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? โThe Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.โ - Tithonus
Alfred Lord TennysonThere is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.
Alfred Lord TennysonAnd 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.
Alfred Lord TennysonAs love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.
Alfred Lord TennysonFor this is England's greatest son, He that gain'd a hundred fights, And never lost an English gun.
Alfred Lord TennysonBut what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.
Alfred Lord TennysonAll experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move.
Alfred Lord TennysonLaunch your vessel, And crowd your canvas, And, ere it vanishes Over the margin, After it, follow it, FollowThe Gleam.
Alfred Lord TennysonThe 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.
Alfred Lord TennysonMy purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset and the baths of all the Western stars until I die.
Alfred Lord TennysonFill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born.
Alfred Lord TennysonFour grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.
Alfred Lord TennysonWhat 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?
Alfred Lord TennysonYet 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!
Alfred Lord TennysonFor I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.
Alfred Lord TennysonSome 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 TennysonRing 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.
Alfred Lord TennysonIf I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.
Alfred Lord TennysonThere 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.
Alfred Lord TennysonAnd 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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson