Alfred Lord Tennyson
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron Tennyson, FRSwas Poet Laureate of Great Britain and Ireland during much of Queen Victoria's reign and remains one of the most popular British poets...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth6 August 1809
death past men
Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again.
taken past portions
All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.
past eternity
In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past.
time past men
I am any man's suitor, If any will be my tutor: Some say this life is pleasant, Some think it speedeth fast, In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past. We laugh, we cry, we are born, we die. Who will riddle me the how and the why?
sweet past may
The 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.
He makes no friends who never made a foe.
true-love pain grief
Oh that it were possible, After long grief and pain, To find the arms of my true love, Around me once again
life dream men
My doom is, I love thee still. Let no man dream but that I love thee still.
inspirational new-year years
Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
spiritual real believe
You may tell me that my hand and foot are only imaginary symbols of my existence. I could believe you, but you never, never can convince me that the I is not an eternal reality, and that the spiritual is not the true and real part of me.
ignorance long naked
Blind and naked ignorance delivers brawling judgments, unashamed, on all things all day long
climbing mud evolution
Evolution ever climbing after some ideal good, And Reversion ever dragging Evolution in the mud.
beautiful voice silence
Silence, beautiful voice.
gratitude grateful cells
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.