I know transplanted human worth will bloom to profit otherwhere. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Our wills are ours, we know not how; Our wills are ours, to make them thine. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
I know that age to age succeeds, Blowing a noise of tongues and deeds, A dust of systems and of creeds. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
The night comes on that knows not morn, When I shall cease to be all alone, To live forgotten, and love forlorn. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
We are self-uncertain creatures, and we may Yea, even when we know not, mix our spites And private hates with our defence… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Sweet were the days when I was all unknown, But when my name was lifted up, the storm Brake on the mountain… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
O son, thou hast not true humility, The highest virtue, mother of them all; But her thou hast not know; for what… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,… — 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
