Alfred, Lord Tennyson Quotes

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She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Once at the croak of a Raven who crost it,
A barbarous people,
Blind to the magic,
And deaf to the melody,
Snarl'd at and cursed me.
A demon vext me,
The light retreated,
The landskip darken'd,
The melody deaden'd,
The Master whisper'd
'Follow The Gleam.'

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
One God, one law, one element,
And one far-off divine event,
To which the whole creation moves.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Read my little fable:
He that runs may read.
Most can raise the flowers now,
For all have got the seed.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
And at their feet the crocus brake like fire,
Violet, amaracus, and asphodel,
Lotos and lilies.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
"If I come dressed like a village maid,
I am but as my fortunes are:
I am a beggar born," she said,
"And not the Lady Clare".

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Have I not found a happy earth?
I least should breathe a thought of pain.
Would God renew me from my birth
I'd almost live my life again.
So sweet it seems with thee to walk,
And once again to woo thee mine —
It seems in after-dinner talk
Across the walnuts and the wine —

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
She sees the Best that glimmers thro' the Worst,
She feels the Sun is hid but for a night,
She spies the summer thro' the winter bud,
She tastes the fruit before the blossom falls,
She hears the lark within the songless egg,
She finds the fountain where they wail'd 'Mirage'!

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate;
The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"
And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"
The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"
And the lily whispers, "I wait."

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
For as the base man, judging of the good,
Puts his own baseness in him by default
Of will and nature, so did Pelleas lend
All the young beauty of his own soul to hers

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Blind and naked Ignorance Delivers brawling judgments, unashamed, On all things all day long.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest
Thou leddest by the hand thine infant Hope.
The eddying of her garments caught from thee
The light of thy great presence; and the cope
Of the half-attain'd futurity,
Though deep not fathomless,
Was cloven with the million stars which tremble
O'er the deep mind of dauntless infancy.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Whither in after life retired
From brawling storms,
From weary wind,
With youthful fancy reinspired,
We may hold converse with all forms
Of the many-sided mind,
And those whom passion hath not blinded,
Subtle-thoughted, myriad-minded.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right —
The leaves upon her falling light —
Thro' the noises of the night,
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott. Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
A red-cross knight for ever kneeled
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
To reverence the King, as if he were
Their conscience, and their conscience as their King.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Science moves, but slowly slowly, creeping on from point to point.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honor feels.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Who never sold the truth to serve the hour,
Nor paltered with Eternal God for power.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans,
And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
I Cannot Rest From Travel: I will drink
Life To The Lees: all times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext The Dim Sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward;
You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.
But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore.
I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard,
To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain."

Alfred, Lord 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.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Thou that singest wheat and woodland, tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd;
All the charm of all the Muses often flowering in a lonely word.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
The deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows, for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Doant thou marry for munny, but goa wheer munny is!

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Ambition
Is like the sea wave, which the more you drink
The more you thirst—yea—drink too much, as men
Have done on rafts of wreck—it drives you mad.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burned like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Short swallow-flights of song, that dip
Their wings in tears, and skim away.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson