Lord Alfred Tennyson Quotes

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, read more

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow: at read more

The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full and clear.

He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel
force,
Something better than his dog, read more

He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel
force,
Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.

Is there evil but on earth? Or pain in every people sphere?
Well, be grateful for the sounding watchword read more

Is there evil but on earth? Or pain in every people sphere?
Well, be grateful for the sounding watchword "Evolution" here.

Well, well, be it so, thou strongest their of all,
For thou hast stolen my will, and made it read more

Well, well, be it so, thou strongest their of all,
For thou hast stolen my will, and made it thine.

We issued gorged with knowledge, and I spoke:
"Why, Sirs, they do all this as well as we."
read more

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?"

All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call;
It was when the moon was setting, and the read more

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.

I hold it true,what'er befall;I feel it, when I sorrow most;'Tis better to have loved and lostThan never to have read more

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.

Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

We keep the day. With festal cheer,
With books and music, surely we
Will drink to him, read more

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.