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
As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid. — 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
Science moves, but slowly, slowly, creeping on from point to point. ... Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
This world was once a fluid haze of light, Till toward the centre set the starry tides, And eddied into suns, that… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my… — Alfred Lord Tennyson Copy Share Image
What is it all but a trouble of ants in the gleam of a million million of suns? — 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
