Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light, The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow, Drops in a silent autumn night. All its allotted length of… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt, And cling to faith beyond the forms of faith; She reels not at the… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field… — 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
And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love. News from the humming city comes… — 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
