Zitate von Lord Alfred Tennyson
Ein bekanntes Zitat von Lord Alfred Tennyson:
Ein Gott, ein Gesetz, ein Element.
Informationen über Lord Alfred Tennyson
Lyriker (England, 1809 - 1892).
Lord Alfred Tennyson · Geburtsdatum · Sterbedatum
Lord Alfred Tennyson wäre heute 214 Jahre, 8 Monate, 23 Tage oder 78.429 Tage alt.
Geboren am 06.08.1809 in Somersby/Lincolnshire
Gestorben am 06.10.1892 in Aldworth
Sternzeichen: ♌ Löwe
Unbekannt
Weitere 295 Zitate von Lord Alfred Tennyson
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Forward, forward let us range, Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.
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From the great deep to the great deep he goes.
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From yon blue heavens above us bent The gardener Adam and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent. Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
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Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, and the winter winds are wearily sighing.
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Gigantic daughter of the West, We drink to thee across the flood, We know thee most, we love thee best, For art thou not of British blood?
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God's finger touched him, and he slept.
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Gorgonised me from head to foot With a stony British stare.
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Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
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Happy he / With such a mother! faith in womankind / Beats with his blood.
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He brought an eye for all he saw; He mixed in all our simple sports; They pleased him, fresh from brawling courts And dusty purlieus of the law.
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He clasps the crag with crookèd hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.
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He is all fault who hath no fault at all: For who loves me must have a touch of earth.
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He makes no friend who never made a foe.
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He seems so near and yet so far.
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He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
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Her eyes are homes of silent prayer.
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His heavy-shotted hammock-shroud Drops in his vast and wandering grave.
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Home they brought her warrior dead. She nor swooned, nor uttered cry: All her maidens, watching said, 'She must weep or she will die.'
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How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! As tho' to breathe were life.
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I am going a long way With these thou seëst-if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with adoubt)- To the island-valley of Avilion; Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.