Best 388 quotes of Alfred Lord Tennyson on MyQuotes

A classic lecture, rich in sentiment, With scraps of thundrous Epic lilted out By violet-hooded Doctors, elegies And quoted odes, and jewels five-words-long, That on the stretched forefinger of all Time Sparkle for ever.

A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair.

A day may sink or save a realm.

A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.

After-dinner talk Across the walnuts and the wine.

Ah, Christ, that it were possible, For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.

Ah! well away! Seasons flower and fade.

Ah, why Should life all labour be?

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?

A life of nothing's nothing worth, From that first nothing ere his birth, To that last nothing under earth.

All experience is an arch wherethro' gleams that untraveled world whose margins fade forever and forever as we move.

All experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move.

All is well, tho' faith and form Be sunder'd in the night of fear.

All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon; All night has the casement jessamine stirr'd To the dancers dancing in tune; Till a silence fell with the waking bird, And a hush with the setting moon.

All precious things, discover'd late, To those that seek them issue forth, For love in sequel works with fate, And draws the veil from hidden worth.

All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.

All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.

A louse in the locks of literature.

A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.

And ah for a man to arise in me, That the man I am may cease to be!

And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears, When we fall out with those we love And kiss again with tears!

And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.

And down I went to fetch my bride: But, Alice, you were ill at ease; This dress and that by turns you tried, Too fearful that you should not please. I loved you better for your fears, I knew you could not look but well; And dews, that would have fall'n in tears, I kiss'd away before they fell.

And every dew-drop paints a bow.

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.

And oft I heard the tender dove In firry woodlands making moan.

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 others' follies teach us not, Nor much their wisdom teaches, And most, of sterling worth, is what Our own experience preaches.

...and our spirits rushed together at the touching of the lips.

And out of darkness came the hands that reach through nature, moulding men.

And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two.

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.

And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.

And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.

And was the day of my delight As pure and perfect as I say?

And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after.

An English homegrey twilight poured On dewy pasture, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.

Any man that walks the mead In bud, or blade, or bloom, may find, According as his humors lead, A meaning suited to his mind.

A pasty costly-made, Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay, Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks Imbedded and injellied.

Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life; ... 'So careful of the type', but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, 'A thousand types are gone: I care for nothing, all shall go' ... Man, her last work, who seemed so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes, Who rolled the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law- Tho' Nature red in tooth and claw With ravine, shrieked against his creed.

A simple maiden in her flower, Is worth a hundred coats of arms.

As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.

A smile abroad is often a scowl at home.

A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times.

As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.

As the husband is the wife is; thou art mated with a clown, As the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down.

A still small voice spake unto me, 'Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be?

A truth looks freshest in the fashions of the day.