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Lord Alfred Tennyson

Lord Alfred Tennyson

The Eagle
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d 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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J Ann Crowder Y. J. Hall Bruno G. Laura Brown
Other works by Lord Alfred Tennyson...
In Memoriam A. H. H.: Preface

Strong Son of God, immortal Love… Whom we, that have not seen thy fa… By faith, and faith alone, embrace… Believing where we cannot prove; Thine are these orbs of light and…
Far

(For Music) What sight so lured him thro’ the… As where earth’s green stole into… Far-far-away? What sound was dearest in his nati…
Gigantic Daughter of the West,

Gigantic daughter of the West, We drink to thee across the flood, We know thee most, we love thee be… For art thou not of British blood… Should war’s mad blast again be bl…
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"If I were loved, as I desire to be"

If I were loved, as I desire to b… What is there in the great sphere… And range of evil between death an… That I should fear,—if I were lov… All the inner, all the outer world…
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From 'The Princess’

'Now sleeps the crimson petal, now… Nor waves the cypress in the palac… Nor winks the gold fin in the porp… The fire-fly wakens: wake thou wit… Now droops the milkwhite peacock l…
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The Lady of Shalott looking at Lancelot, by John William Waterhouse
The Lady of Shalott (1842 version)

On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the… And thro’ the field the road runs… To many—tower’d Camelot;
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The War

There is a sound of thunder afar, Storm in the south that darkens th… Storm of battle and thunder of war… Well, if it do not roll our way. Form! form! Riflemen form!
The Miller’s Daughter

It is the miller’s daughter, And she is grown so dear, so dear, That I would be the jewel That trembles in her ear: For hid in ringlets day and night,
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 15

To—night the winds begin to rise And roar from yonder dropping day: The last red leaf is whirl’d away, The rooks are blown about the skie… The forest crack’d, the waters cur…
To J. S.

The wind, that beats the mountain,… More softly round the open wold, And gently comes the world to thos… That are cast in gentle mould. And me this knowledge bolder made,
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In the Garden at Swainston

NIGHTINGALES warbled without… Within was weeping for thee: Shadows of three dead men Walk’d in the walks with me: Shadows of three dead men, and tho…
Boadicea

While about the shore of Mona tho… Burnt and broke the grove and alta… Far in the East Boadicea, standin… Mad and maddening all that heard h… Girt by half the tribes of Britai…
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The Lotos

“This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.” All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem. A land of streams! s...
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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 39. Old Warder of These Buried Bones

Old warder of these buried bones, And answering now my random stroke With fruitful cloud and living smo… Dark yew, that graspest at the sto… And dippest toward the dreamless h…
The Princess: Ask me no more

Ask me no more: the moon may draw… The cloud may stoop from heaven an… With fold to fold, of mountain or… But O too fond, when have I answe… Ask me no more.



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