I will love thee to the death, And out beyond into the dream to come. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
There is always change, bad customs pass and give way to better ones. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Broad based upon her people's will, And compassed by the inviolate sea. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
And oft I heard the tender dove In firry woodlands making moan. — 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
What was once to me mere matter of the fancy now has grown the vast necessity of heart and life. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. — 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
