The following 99 quotes match your criteria:
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
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. |
| To the Queen.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid. |
| Recollections of the Arabian Nights.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
A still small voice spake unto me,
“Thou art so full of misery,
Were it not better not to be?” |
| The Two Voices.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
This truth within thy mind rehearse,
That in a boundless universe
Is boundless better, boundless worse. |
| The Two Voices.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
No life that breathes with human breath
Has ever truly longed for death. |
| The Two Voices.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control,—
These three alone lead life to sovereign power. |
| Œnone.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house,
Wherein at ease for aye to dwell. |
| The Palace of Art.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Her manners had not that repose
Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere. |
| Lady Clara Vere de Vere. Stanza 5.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
From yon blue heaven above us bent,
The grand old gardener and his wife |
| Lady Clara Vere de Vere. Stanza 7.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Howe’er it be, it seems to me,
’T is only noble to be good. |
| Lady Clara Vere de Vere. Stanza 7.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow’ll be the happiest time of all the glad New Year,—
Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day;
For I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I |
| The May Queen.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
A daughter of the gods, divinely tall,
And most divinely fair. |
| A Dream of fair Women. Stanza xxii.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
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. |
| To J. S.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace!
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll. |
| To J. S.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet!
Nothing comes to thee new or strange.
Sleep full of rest from head to feet;
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. |
| To J. S.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
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? |
| Love and Duty.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
The long mechanic pacings to and fro,
The set, gray life, and apathetic end. |
| Love and Duty.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Ah, when shall all men’s good
Be each man’s rule, and universal peace
Lie like a shaft of light across the land,
And like a lane of beams athwart the sea,
Thro’ all the circle of the golden year? |
| The golden Year.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use,—
As tho’ to breathe were life! |
| Ulysses.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments;
And much delight of battle with my peers
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. |
| Ulysses.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles whom we knew. |
| Ulysses.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnished dove;
In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. |
| Locksley Hall. Line 19.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might;
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight. |
| Locksley Hall. Line 33.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force,
Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse. |
| Locksley Hall. Line 49.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
This is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things. |
| Locksley Hall. Line 75.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
| With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter’s heart. |
| Locksley Hall. Line 94.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
| But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honour feels. |
| Locksley Hall. Line 105.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
| Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new. |
| Locksley Hall. Line 117.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs,
And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns. |
| Locksley Hall. Line 137.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
| Let the great world spin forever down the ringing grooves of change. |
| Locksley Hall. Line 182.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
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. |
| The Day-Dream. The Departure, i.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
And o’er the hills, and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,
Thro’ all the world she followed him. |
| The Day-Dream. The Departure, i.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
As she fled fast through sun and shade
The happy winds upon her played,
Blowing the ringlet from the braid. |
| Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
For now the poet can not die,
Nor leave his music as of old,
But round him ere he scarce be cold
Begins the scandal and the cry. |
| To ———, after reading a Life and Letters.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
But oh for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still! |
| Break, break, break.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me. |
| Break, break, break.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Mastering the lawless science of our law,—
That codeless myriad of precedent,
That wilderness of single instances. |
| Aylmer’s Field.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Rich in saving common-sense,
And, as the greatest only are,
In his simplicity sublime. |
| Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 4.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
| Oh good gray head which all men knew! |
| Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 4.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
That tower of strength
Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew. |
| Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 4.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
For this is England’s greatest son,
He that gained a hundred fights,
And never lost an English gun. |
| Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 6.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Not once or twice in our rough-island story
The path of duty was the way to glory. |
| Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 8.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
All in the valley of death
Rode the six hundred. |
| The Charge of the Light Brigade. Stanza 1.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Some one had blundered:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die. |
| The Charge of the Light Brigade. Stanza 2.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them.
. . . . .
Into the jaws of death, |
| The Charge of the Light Brigade. Stanza 3.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies;
That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright;
But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight. |
| The Grandmother. Stanza 8.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
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! |
| The Daisy. Stanza 1.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans,
And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair. |
| The Princess. Prologue. Line 141.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
A rosebud set with little wilful thorns,
And sweet as English air could make her, she. |
| The Princess. Part i. Line 153.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Jewels five-words-long,
That on the stretched forefinger of all Time
Sparkle forever. |
| The Princess. Part ii. Line 355.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying!
Blow, bugle! answer, echoes! dying, dying, dying. |
| The Princess. Part iii. Line 352.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
O Love! they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying!
And answer, echoes, answer! dyin |
| The Princess. Part iii. Line 360.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean.
Tears from the depth of some divine 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. |
| The Princess. Part iv. Line 21.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square. |
| The Princess. Part iv. Line 33.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
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! |
| The Princess. Part iv. Line 36.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Sweet is every sound,
Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet;
Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro’ the lawn,
The moan of doves in immemorial elms,
And murmuring of innumerable bees. |
| The Princess. Part vii. Line 203.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Happy he
With such a mother! faith in womankind
Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high
Comes easy to him; and tho& |
| The Princess. Part vii. Line 308.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
But for the unquiet heart and brain
A use in measured language lies;
The sad mechanic exercise
Like dull narcotics numbing pain. |
| In Memoriam. v. Stanza 2.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
And topples round the dreary west
A looming bastion fringed with fire. |
| In Memoriam. xv. Stanza 5.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land. |
| In Memoriam. xviii. Stanza 1.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
I do but sing because I must,
And pipe but as the linnets sing. |
| In Memoriam. xxi. Stanza 6.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought
Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech. |
| In Memoriam. xxiii. Stanza 4.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
’T is better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all. |
| In Memoriam. xxvii. Stanza 4.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Whose faith has centre everywhere,
Nor cares to fix itself to form. |
| In Memoriam. xxxiii. Stanza 1.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
My own dim life should teach me this
That life shall live for evermore. |
| In Memoriam. xxxiv. Stanza 1.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Short swallow-flights of song, that dip
Their wings in tears, and skim away. |
| In Memoriam. xlviii. Stanza 4.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Hold thou the good; define it well;
For fear divine Philosophy
Should push beyond her mark, and be
Procuress to the Lords of Hell. |
| In Memoriam. liii. Stanza 4.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
Oh yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill. |
| In Memoriam. liv. Stanza 1.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
But what am I?
An infant crying in the night:
An infant crying for the light,
And with no language but a cry. |
| In Memoriam. liv. Stanza 5.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
So careful of the type she seems,
So careless of the single life. |
| In Memoriam. lv. Stanza 2.
|
| Author: Alfred Tennyson Tennyson |
The great world’s altar-stairs,
That slope through darkness up to God. |
| In Memoriam. lv. Stanza 4.
|
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