Alfred Tennyson

England
6 Aug 1809 // 6 Oct 1892
Poeta

Quotes



He seems to near and yet so far.
Believing where we cannot prove.

Be near me when my light is low.

How fares it with the happy dead?

God's finger touched him and he slept.

Wearing all that weight
Of learning lightly like a flower.
Oh yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill.

'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought
Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech.
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