Manners are not idle, but the fruit of loyal and of noble mind. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Ring out the grief that saps the mind, for those that were here we see no more. — 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
This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
And men, whose reason long was blind, From cells of madness unconfined, Oft lose whole years of darker mind. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Any man that walks the mead In bud, or blade, or bloom, may find, According as his humors lead, A meaning suited… — 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
I am going a long way With these thou seëst-if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)-… — 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
