Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Of happy men that have the power to die, And grassy barrows of the happier dead. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Fill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
I am on fire within. There comes no murmur of reply. What is it that will take away my sin, And save… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
For now the poet cannot die, Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Shall the hag Evil die with the child of Good, Or propagate again her loathèd kind, Thronging the cells of the diseased… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
O Love! they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
I am any man's suitor, If any will be my tutor: Some say this life is pleasant, Some think it speedeth fast,… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll ye the church bell sad and slow, And… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Love's arms were wreathed about the neck of Hope, And Hope kiss'd Love, and Love drew in her breath In that close… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Sweet is true love though given in vain, in vain; And sweet is death who puts an end to pain: I know… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers; Unfaith is aught is want of faith in all. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before; Although the… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
I do but sing because I must; and pipe but as the linnets sing. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Here about the beach I wandered, nourishing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
So now I have sworn to bury All this dead body of hate I feel so free and so clear By the loss of… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour? — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
