And so the Word had breath, and wrought With human hands the creed of creeds In loveliness of perfect deeds, More strong… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Courtesy wins woman all as well. As valor may, but he that closes both is perfect. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear. — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd That lie upon her… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
I thought I could not breathe in that fine air That pure severity of perfect light I yearned for warmth and colour… — 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
