Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, Thy tribute wave deliver:No more by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever. Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea, …
Posts published in “Alfred Lord Tennyson Poems”
Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing Under my eye;Warmly and broadly the south winds are blowing Over the sky.One after another the white clouds are fleeting;Every heart this…
The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory.Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,Blow,…
Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fisherman’s boy,;;;;That he shouts with…
Where Claribel low-liethThe breezes pause and die,Letting the rose-leaves fall:But the solemn oak-tree sigheth,Thick-leaved, ambrosial,With an ancient melodyOf an inward agony,Where Claribel low-lieth. At eve the beetle boomethAthwart the thicket…
Faint as a climate-changing bird that fliesAll night across the darkness, and at dawnFalls on the threshold of her native land,And can no more, thou camest, O my child,Led upward…
To-night ungather’d let us leaveThis laurel, let this holly stand:We live within the stranger’s land,And strangely falls our Christmas-eve. Our father’s dust is left aloneAnd silent under other snows:There in…
I envy not in any moodsThe captive void of noble rage,The linnet born within the cage,That never knew the summer woods: I envy not the beast that takesHis license in…
I sometimes hold it half a sinTo put in words the grief I feel;For words, like Nature, half revealAnd half conceal the Soul within. But, for the unquiet heart and…
Oh, yet we trust that somehow goodWill be the final end of ill,To pangs of nature, sins of will,Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless…
“So careful of the type?” but no.From scarped cliff and quarried stoneShe cries, “A thousand types are gone:I care for nothing, all shall go. “Thou makest thine appeal to me:I…
Dark house, by which once more I standHere in the long unlovely street,Doors, where my heart was used to beatSo quickly, waiting for a hand, A hand that can be…
Dip down upon the northern shoreO sweet new-year delaying long;Thou doest expectant nature wrong;Delaying long, delay no more. What stays thee from the clouded noons,Thy sweetness from its proper place?Can…
I hear the noise about thy keel; I hear the bell struck in the night: I see the cabin-window bright;I see the sailor at the wheel. Thou bring’st the sailor to his…
Tho’ truths in manhood darkly join,;;Deep-seated in our mystic frame,;;We yield all blessing to the nameOf Him that made them current coin; For Wisdom dealt with mortal powers,;;Where truth in…
If any vision should reveal Thy likeness, I might count it vain As but the canker of the brain;Yea, tho’ it spake and made appeal To chances where our lots were cast;;Together…
Unwatch’d, the garden bough shall sway,;;The tender blossom flutter down,;;Unloved, that beech will gather brown,This maple burn itself away; Unloved, the sun-flower, shining fair,;;Ray round with flames her disk of…
On that last night before we went From out the doors where I was bred, I dream’d a vision of the dead,Which left my after-morn content. Methought I dwelt within a hall,;;And…
Dear friend, far off, my lost desire, So far, so near in woe and weal; O loved the most, when most I feelThere is a lower and a higher; Known and unknown;…
Thy voice is on the rolling air; I hear thee where the waters run; Thou standest in the rising sun,And in the setting thou art fair. What art thou then? I cannot…
O true and tried, so well and long, Demand not thou a marriage lay; In that it is thy marriage dayIs music more than any song. Nor have I felt so much…
Alfred Lord Tennyson was born in Lincolnshire and was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. At Cambridge, he soon became known for his poetic ability that won him the friendship of…
Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill! Late, late, so late! but we can enter still.Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now. No light had we:…
Locksley Hall by Alfred, Lord Tennyson Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet ‘t is early morn:Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn.…
Late, my grandson! half the morning have I paced these sandy tracts,Watch’d again the hollow ridges roaring into cataracts, Wander’d back to living boyhood while I heard the curlews call,I…