Alfred Lord Tennyson Poems

  • 1.  
    I envy not in any moods
    The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage,
  • 2.  
    Oh yet we trust that somehow good
    Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will,
  • 3.  
    A voice by cedar tree
    In the meadow under the Hall! She is singing an air that is known to me,
  • 4.  
    Dark house, by which once more I stand
    Here in the long unlovely street. Doors, where my heart was used to beat
  • 5.  
    She is coming, my own, my sweet;
    Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear and beat,
  • 6.  
    We were two daughters of one race;
    She was the fairest in the face. The wind is blowing in turret and tree.
  • 7.  
    Why do they prate of the blessings of peace? we have made them a curse,
    Pickpockets, each hand lusting for all that is not its own; And lust of gain, in the spirit of Cain, is it better or worse
  • 8.  
    For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see,
    Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be;
  • 9.  
    Dear is the memory of our wedded lives,
    And dear the last embraces of our wives And their warm tears; but all hath suffer'd change;
  • 10.  
    How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream,
    With half-shut eyes ever to seem Falling asleep in a half-dream!
  • 11.  
    As thro' the land of eve we went,
    And pluck'd the ripen'd ears, We fell out, my wife and I,
  • 12.  
    Hateful is the dark-blue sky,
    Vaulted o'er the dark-blue sea. Death is the end of life; ah, why
  • 13.  
    Tho' Sin too oft, when smitten by Thy rod,
    Rail at 'Blind Fate' with many a vain 'Alas'' From sin thro' sorrow into Thee we pass
  • 14.  
    Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums,
    That beat to battle where he stands; Thy face across his fancy comes,
  • 15.  
    Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
    Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
  • 16.  
    So was their sanctuary violated,
    So their fair college turned to hospital; At first with all confusion: by and by
  • 17.  
    O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South,
    Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.
  • 18.  
    A prince I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face,
    Of temper amorous, as the first of May, With lengths of yellow ringlet, like a girl,
  • 19.  
    I.
    Is it you, that preach'd in the chapel there looking over the sand? Follow'd us too that night, and dogg'd us, and drew me to land?
  • 20.  
    'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun,
    If that hypothesis of theirs be sound' Said Ida; 'let us down and rest;' and we
  • 21.  
    Morn in the wake of the morning star
    Came furrowing all the orient into gold. We rose, and each by other drest with care
  • 22.  
    Now, scarce three paces measured from the mound,
    We stumbled on a stationary voice, And 'Stand, who goes?' 'Two from the palace' I.
  • 23.  
    As thro' the land at eve we went,
    And pluck'd the ripen'd ears, We fell out, my wife and I,
  • 24.  
    Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height:
    What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang) In height and cold, the splendour of the hills?
  • 25.  
    The splendour falls on castle walls
    And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes,
  • 26.  
    My dream had never died or lived again.
    As in some mystic middle state I lay; Seeing I saw not, hearing not I heard:
  • 27.  
    Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n: the seed,
    The little seed they laugh'd at in the dark, Has risen and cleft the soil, and grown a bulk
  • 28.  
    Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;
    The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape, With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;
  • 29.  
    At break of day the College Portress came:
    She brought us Academic silks, in hue The lilac, with a silken hood to each,
  • 30.  
    Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
    The flying cloud, the frosty light; The year is dying in the night;
  • 31.  
    I.
    Now is done thy long day's work; Fold thy palms across thy breast,
  • 32.  
    Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
    Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:
  • 33.  
    Home they brought her warrior dead:
    She nor swoon'd nor utter'd cry: All her maidens, watching, said,
  • 34.  
    So closed our tale, of which I give you all
    The random scheme as wildly as it rose: The words are mostly mine; for when we ceased
  • 35.  
    With farmer Allan at the farm abode
    William and Dora. William was his son, And she his niece. He often look'd at them,
  • 36.  
    I.
    Will my tiny spark of being wholly vanish in your deeps and heights? Must my day be dark by reason, O ye Heavens, of your boundless nights,
  • 37.  
    I waited for the train at Coventry;
    I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge, To match the three tall spires; and there I shaped
  • 38.  
    I.
    'Wait a little,' you say, 'you are sure it 'll all come right,' But the boy was born i' trouble, an' looks so wan an' so white:
  • 39.  
    This morning is the morning of the day,
    When I and Eustace from the city went To see the Gardener's Daughter; I and he,
  • 40.  
    The Two Greetings.
    I.
  • 41.  
    ILIAD, XVIII. 2O2.

  • 42.  
    Thou third great Canning, stand among our best
    And noblest, now thy long day's work hath ceased, Here silent in our Minster of the West
  • 43.  
    AN INSCRIPTION BY ABUL FAZL FOR A TEMPLE IN KASHMIR (Blochmann xxxii.)

  • 44.  
    DEAR, near and true--no truer Time himself
    Can prove you, tho' he make you evermore Dearer and nearer, as the rapid of life
  • 45.  
    I.
    What am I doing, you say to me, 'wasting the sweet summer hours'? Haven't you eyes? I am dressing the grave of a woman with flowers.
  • 46.  
    O me, my pleasant rambles by the lake,
    My sweet, wild, fresh three-quarters of a year, My one Oasis in the dust and drouth
  • 47.  
    Dust are our frames; and gilded dust, our pride
    Looks only for a moment whole and sound; Like that long-buried body of the king,
  • 48.  
    Warrior of God, man's friend, and tyrant's foe,
    Now somewhere dead far in the waste Soudan, Thou livest in all hearts, for all men know
  • 49.  
    I.
    Doubt no longer that the Highest is the wisest and the best, Let not all that saddens Nature blight thy hope or break thy rest,
  • 50.  
    This morning is the morning of the day,
    When I and Eustace from the city went To see the Gardener's Daughter; I and he,
Total 544 poems written by Alfred Lord Tennyson

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Thomas Moore Poem
Sing, Sweet Harp
 by Thomas Moore

Sing, sweet Harp, oh sing to me
Some song of ancient days,
Whose sounds, in this sad memory,
Long-buried dreams shall raise; --
Some lay that tells of vanish'd fame,
Whose light once round us shone,
Of noble pride, now turn'd to shame,
And hopes for ever gone.
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