The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before;… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
But for the unquiet heart and brain A use in measured language lies; The sad mechanic exercise Like dull narcotics numbing pain. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Is there evil but on earth? Or pain in every people sphere? Well, be grateful for the sounding watchword "Evolution" here. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Oh that it were possible, After long grief and pain, To find the arms of my true love, Around me once again — 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
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
