Quotes
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Oh yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroy'd,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete;
That not a worm is cloven in vain;
That not a moth with vain desire
Is shrivell'd in a fruitless fire,
Or but subserves another's gain.
Behold, we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At...
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Be near me when my light is low, When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick. And tingle; and the heart is sick, And all the wheels of Being slow. Be near me when the sensuous frame. Is rack'd with pangs that conquer trust; And Time, a maniac scattering dust, And Life, a fury slinging flame. Be near me when my faith is dry, And men the flies of latter spring, That lay their eggs, and sting and sing. And weave their petty cells and die. Be near me when I fade away, To point the term of human...
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The old order changeth yielding place to new And God fulfills himself in many ways Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me I have lived my life and that which I have done May he within himself make pure but thou If thou shouldst never see my face again Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Dark house, by which once more I stand. Here in the long unlovely street, Doors, where my heart was used to beat. So quickly, waiting for a hand, A hand that can be clasp'd no more -Behold me, for I cannot sleep, And like a guilty thing I creep. At earliest morning to the door. He is not here; but far away. The noise of life begins again, And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain. On the bald street breaks the blank day.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I am part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough. Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades. For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breath were life. Life piled on life. Were all too little, and of one to me. Little remains: but every hour is saved. From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were. For some three suns to store and...
Alfred Lord Tennyson
There has fallen a splendid tear. From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate. The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"And the lily whispers, "I wait."She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed; My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead, Would...
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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