Alfred Lord Tennyson Poems

  • 501.  
    A happy lover who has come
    To look on her that loves him well, Who ‘lights and rings the gateway bell,
  • 502.  
    Dark house, by which once more I stand
    Here in the long unlovely street, Doors, where my heart was used to beat
  • 503.  
    One writes, that ‘Other friends remain,'
    That ‘Loss is common to the race'- And common is the commonplace,
  • 504.  
    I sometimes hold it half a sin
    To put in words the grief I feel; For words, like Nature, half reveal
  • 505.  
    To Sleep I give my powers away;
    My will is bondsman to the dark; I sit within a helmless bark,
  • 506.  
    O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,
    O Priestess in the vaults of Death, O sweet and bitter in a breath,
  • 507.  
    Old Yew, which graspest at the stones
    That name the under-lying dead, Thy fibres net the dreamless head,
  • 508.  
    I held it truth, with him who sings
    To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones
  • 509.  
    Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
    Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
  • 510.  
    Many, many welcomes,
    February fair-maid!Ever as of old time,
  • 511.  
    When cats run home and light is come,
    And dew is cold upon the ground,And the far-off stream is dumb,
  • 512.  
    It is the miller's daughter,
    And she is grown so dear, so dear,That I would be the jewel
  • 513.  
    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:
  • 514.  
    O that 'twere possible
    After long grief and painTo find the arms of my true love
  • 515.  
    Come into the garden, Maud,
    For the black bat, Night, has flown,Come into the garden, Maud,
  • 516.  
    With blackest moss the flower-plots
    Were thickly crusted, one and all:The rusted nails fell from the knots
  • 517.  
    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?
  • 518.  
    The splendour falls on castle walls
    And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes,
  • 519.  
    It little profits that an idle king,
    By this still hearth, among these barren crags,Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole
  • 520.  
    Roman Virgil, thou that singest
    Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire,Ilion falling, Rome arising,
  • 521.  
    The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,
    The vapours weep their burthen to the ground,Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath,
  • 522.  
    I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house,
    Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.I said, “O Soul, make merry and carouse,
  • 523.  
    Live thy life,
    Young and old,Like yon oak,
  • 524.  

  • 525.  

  • 526.  
    “Courage!” he said, and pointed toward the land,
    “This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.”In the afternoon they came unto a land
  • 527.  
    Part I

  • 528.  
    He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
    Close to the sun in lonely lands,Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
  • 529.  
    Half a league, half a league,
    Half a league onward,All in the valley of Death
  • 530.  
    Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
    Tears from the depth of some divine despairRise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
  • 531.  
    Deep on the convent-roof the snows
    Are sparkling to the moon:My breath to heaven like vapour goes;
  • 532.  
    Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
    The thunders breaking at her feet:Above her shook the starry lights:
  • 533.  
    So all day long the noise of battle roll'd
    Among the mountains by the winter sea;Until King Arthur's table, man by man,
  • 534.  
    Late, my grandson! half the morning have I paced these sandy tracts,
    Watch'd again the hollow ridges roaring into cataracts,
  • 535.  
    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.
  • 536.  
    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.
  • 537.  
    O Love, Love, Love! O withering might!
    O sun, that from thy noonday heightShudderest when I strain my sight,
  • 538.  
    Faint as a climate-changing bird that flies
    All night across the darkness, and at dawnFalls on the threshold of her native land,
  • 539.  
    Sunset and evening star,
    And one clear call for me!And may there be no moaning of the bar,
  • 540.  
    Come into the garden, Maud,
    For the black bat, Night, has flown,Come into the garden, Maud,
  • 541.  
    Where Claribel low-lieth
    The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose-leaves fall:
  • 542.  
    Break, break, break,
    On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!And I would that my tongue could utter
  • 543.  
    Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing

  • 544.  
    Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
    Thy tribute wave deliver:No more by thee my steps shall be,
Total 544 poems written by Alfred Lord Tennyson

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When I Watch The Living Meet
 by A. E. Housman

When I watch the living meet,
And the moving pageant file
Warm and breathing through the street
Where I lodge a little while,

If the heats of hate and lust
In the house of flesh are strong,
Let me mind the house of dust

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