Alfred Tennyson
England
6 Aug 1809 // 6 Oct 1892
Poeta
6 Aug 1809 // 6 Oct 1892
Poeta
Quotes
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He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
Of love that never found his earthly close,
What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts;
Or all the same as if he had not been?
What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts;
Or all the same as if he had not been?
Love and Duty
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.
Who knew the seasons, when to take
Occasion by the hand, and make
The bounds of freedom wider yet.
To the Queen
And o'er the hills, and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,
Thro' all the world she follow'd him.
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,
Thro' all the world she follow'd him.
The Day-Dream. The Departure
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might;
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
And on her lover's arm she leant,
And round her waist she felt it fold,
And far across the hills they went
In that new world which is the old.
And round her waist she felt it fold,
And far across the hills they went
In that new world which is the old.
The Day-Dream. The Departure
God gives us love. Something to love
He lends us; but when love is grown
To ripeness, that on which it throve
Falls off, and love is left alone.
He lends us; but when love is grown
To ripeness, that on which it throve
Falls off, and love is left alone.
To J. S
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace!
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll.
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll.
To J. S
I held it truth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men may rise on stepping-stones
Of their dead selves to higher things.
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men may rise on stepping-stones
Of their dead selves to higher things.
In Memorium
O Love! what hours were thine and mine,
In lands of palm and southern pine;
In lands of palm, of orange-blossom,
Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine!
In lands of palm and southern pine;
In lands of palm, of orange-blossom,
Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine!
The Daisy
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