Alfred Tennyson Quotes

That jewelled mass of millinery, That oiled and curled Assyrian Bull.

Where Claribel low-lieth The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose-leaves fall: But the solemn oak-tree sigheth, Thick-leaved, ambrosial, With an ancient melody Of an inward agony, Where Claribel low-lieth.

Tis a morning pure and sweet,
And a dewy splendour falls
On the little flower that clings
To the turrets and the walls;
'Tis a morning pure and sweet,
And the light and shadow fleet;
She is walking in the meadow,
And the woodland echo rings;
In a moment we shall meet;
She is singing in the meadow,
And the rivulet at her feet
Ripples on in light and shadow
To the ballad that she sings.

Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Of me you shall not win renown: You thought to break a country heart For pastime, ere you went to town. At me you smiled, but unbeguiled I saw the snare, and I retired; The daughter of a hundred earls, You are not one to be desired.

I can't sleep without knowing there's hope. Half the night I waste in sighs. In a wakeful doze I sorrow. For the hands, for the lips... the eyes. For the meeting of tomorrow.

Half light, half shade, She stood, a sight to make an old man young.

My lord, you know what Virgil sings— Woman is various and most mutable.

I sometime hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel;
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.

Hateful is the dark-blue sky,
Vaulted o'er the dark-blue sea.
Death is the end of life; ah, why
Should life all labour be?

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves a shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
and slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip into my bosom and be lost in me.

In our windy world What's up is faith, what's down is heresy.

Kate saith the world is void of might.
Kate saith the men are gilded flies.
Kate snaps her fingers at my vows;
Kate will not hear of lovers sighs.
I would I were an armed knight,
Far-famed for well-won enterprise,
And wearing on my swarthy brows
The garland of new-wreathed emprise
For in a moment I would pierce
The blackest files of clanging fight,
And strongly strike to left and right,
In dreaming of my lady's eyes.
O, Kate loves well the bold and fierce;
But none are bold enough for Kate,
She cannot find a fitting mate.

And this electric force, that keeps
A thousand pulses dancing, fail.

I know not if I know what true love is,
But if I know, then, if I love not him,
I know there is none other I can love

Remember that sore saying spoken once By Him that was the Truth, 'How hard it is For the rich man to enter into heaven!' Let all rich men remember that hard word.