With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
I sometimes hold it half a sin To put in words the grief I feel For words, like nature, half reveal And… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Love lieth deep; Love dwells not in lip-depths; Love laps his wings on either side the heart Absorbing all the incense of… — 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
The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart; one half will flutter here, one there. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair Rise in the heart, and… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Come not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, To trample round my fallen head, And vex… — 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
