Why are we weigh’d upon with heaviness, And utterly consumed with sharp distress, While all things else have rest from weariness? All things have res… - Alfred Tennyson

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Why are we weigh’d upon with heaviness, And utterly consumed with sharp distress, While all things else have rest from weariness? All things have rest: why should we toil alone, We only toil, who are the first of things, And make perpetual moan, Still from one sorrow to another thrown: Nor ever fold our wings, And cease from wanderings, Nor steep our brows in slumber’s holy balm; Nor harken what the inner spirit sings, “There is no joy but calm!” Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?

English
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About Alfred Tennyson

Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron Tennyson (6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892) was the Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom during much of Queen Victoria's reign, after William Wordsworth, and is one of the most popular English poets.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Native Name: Alfred Tennyson, 1. Baron Tennyson
Alternative Names: Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron Tennyson Lord Alfred Tennyson Alcibiades A. Tennyson Alfred Tennyson, Baron Tennyson Alfred Tennyson Tennyson Tennyson 1st Baron Tennyson of Aldworth and Freshwater Alfred Tennyson Alfred Tennyson d'Eyncourt Lord Tennyson Alfred Alfred Lord Tennyson Alfred, Lord Tennyson Alfred (Lord)
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Additional quotes by Alfred Tennyson

Yet fill my glass: give me one kiss: My own sweet Alice, we must die. There's somewhat in this world amiss Shall be unriddled by and by. There's somewhat flows to us in life, But more is taken quite away. Pray, Alice, pray, my darling wife, That we may die the self-same day.

Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me — That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads — you and I are old; Old age hath yet his honor and his toil. Death closes all; but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with gods.

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