Quotes
Quotes - Tennyson
Evolution ever climbing after some ideal good And Reversion ever dragging Evolution in the mud.
When I was a shepherd on the plains of Assyria.
Fancy light from Fancy caught.
And feet like sunny gems on an English green.
We keep the day. With festal cheer, With books and music, surely we Will drink to him, whate'er he be, And sing the songs he loved to hear.
To be true to each other, let 'appen what maay Till the end o' the daay An the last load hoam.
Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade Glitter like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid.
Steps with a tender foot, light as on air, The lovely, lordly creature floated on.
I held it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping stones Or their dead selves to higher things.
The great world's altar stairs That slope through darkness up to God.
The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak And stared with his foot on the prey.
. . . but while I breathe Heaven's air, and Heaven looks down on me, And smiles at my best meanings, I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.
We issued gorged with knowledge, and I spoke: "Why, Sirs, they do all this as well as we." "They hunt old trails" said Cyril, "very well; But when did woman ever yet invent?"
Summer isles of Eden, lying in dark purple spheres of sea.
I do sing because I must, And pipe but as the linnets sing.
If thou shouldst never see my face again,Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayerThan this world dreams of. - The Passing of Arthur.
I hold it true,what'er befall;I feel it, when I sorrow most;'Tis better to have loved and lostThan never to have loved at all. - In Memoriam.
Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go on for ever. - The Brook.
But over all things brooding slept The quiet sense of something lost.
That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break.
'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after.
A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.
All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call; It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all; The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll, And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.
