Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes (438 Quotes)

For 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 For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by g.

And statesmen at her council met Who knew the seasons, when to take Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet.

Love is the only gold.

Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.

But Lancelot mused a little space; He said, 'She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.'

Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

The toppling crags of Duty scaled; Are close upon the shining table-lands; To which our God Himself is moon and sun.

Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was love.

Tho'We are not now that strength that in old days; Moved earth and heaven that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will; To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

Now lies the Earth all Dana to the stars.

Behold a man raised up by Christ.

Fresh from brawling courts; And dusty purlieus of the law.

Trust that those we call the dead Are breathers of an ampler day.

Sleep, Death's twin-brother, knows not Death, Nor can I dream of thee as dead.

I found Him in the shining of the stars, I marked Him in the flowering of His fields, But in His ways with men I find Him not.

Till the war-drum throbbed no longer, and the battle-flags were furled In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world.

Twere best at once to sink to peace, Like birds the charming serpent draws, To drop head-foremost in the jaws; Of vacant darkness and to cease.

Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, While the stars burn, the moons increase, And the great ages onward roll.

Ring out the false, ring in the true.

There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dew on the still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass Music that gentler on the spirit lies Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.

Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, Before a thousand peering littlenesses, In that fierce light which beats upon a throne, And blackens every blot.

Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill.

A smile abroad is often a scowl at home.

Nourishing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time.

Ring out false pride in blood and place, The civic slander and the spite.

Thy leaf has perished in the green, And while we breathe beneath the sun, The world which credits what is done Is cold to all that might have been.

Oh teach me yet; Somewhat before the heavy clod; Weighs on me, and the busy fret; Of that sharp-headed worm begins; In the gross blackness underneath.

Now lies the Earth all Dana.

Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be; They are but broken lights of thee, And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

News from the humming city comes to it In sound of funeral or of marriage bells.

Believe me, than in half the creeds.

Dear as remember'd 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. Oh death in life, the days that are no more.

She only said, My life is dreary, He cometh not,' she said; She said, I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead.'

A truth looks freshest in the fashions of the day.

Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King -Else, wherefore born.

I know that age to age succeeds, Blowing a noise of tongues and deeds, A dust of systems and of creeds.

Like a dog, he hunts in dreams, and thou art staring at the wall, Where the dying night-lamp flickers, and the shadows rise and fall.

We be all good Englishmen. Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil, For I never turned my back upon Don or devil yet.

A city clerk, but gently born and bred.

O earth, what changes hast thou seen!

Not with blinded eyesight poring over miserable books.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus.

The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfills himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself what comfort is in me I have lived my life, and that which I have done May he within himself make pure but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul....

Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed'I am half sick of shadows,' said; The Lady of Shalott.

We have children, we have wives, And the Lord hath spared our lives. We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go; We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow.

The happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions.

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

Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.

This is England's greatest son, He that gained a hundred fights, Nor ever lost an English gun.