She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Strong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
The old order changeth yielding place to new And God fulfills himself in many ways Lest one good custom should corrupt the… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
I came in haste with cursing breath, And heart of hardest steel; But when I saw thee cold in death, I felt… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For though… — 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
