Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809–92)

A

A happy lover who has come

A still small voice spake unto me

A storm was coming, but the winds were still

Again at Christmas did we weave

And all is well, tho’ faith and form

And was the day of my delight

As sometimes in a dead man’s face

B

Be near me when my light is low

Break, break, break

Bury the Great Duke

By night we linger’d on the lawn

C

Calm is the morn without a sound

Come into the garden, Maud

Contemplate all this work of Time

Could I have said while he was here

Could we forget the widow’d hour

Courage! he said, and pointed toward the land

D

Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood

Dark house, by which once more I stand

Dear friend, far off, my lost desire

Deep on the convent-roof the snows

Dip down upon the northern shore

Do we indeed desire the dead

Doors, where my heart was used to beat

Dost thou look back on what hath been

E

Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable

F

Fair ship, that from the Italian shore

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea

From art, from nature, from the schools

From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done

Full knee-deep lies the winter snow

H

Half a league, half a league

He past; a soul of nobler tone

He tasted love with half his mind

Heart-affluence in discursive talk

Her eyes are homes of silent prayer

High wisdom holds my wisdom less

How fares it with the happy dead?

How many a father have I seen

How pure at heart and sound in head

I

I cannot love thee as I ought

I cannot see the features right

I climb the hill: from end to end

I dream’d there would be Spring no more

I envy not in any moods

I hear the noise about thy keel

I held it truth, with him who sings

I know that this was Life, — the track

I leave thy praises unexpress’d

I past beside the reverend walls

I shall not see thee. Dare I say

I sing to him that rests below

I sometimes hold it half a sin

I trust I have not wasted breath

I vex my heart with fancies dim

I wage not any feud with Death

I waited for the train at Coventry

I will not shut me from my kind

If any vague desire should rise

If any vision should reveal

If, in thy second state sublime

If one should bring me this report

If Sleep and Death be truly one

If these brief lays, of Sorrow born

In those sad words I took farewell

Is it, then, regret for buried time

It is the day when he was born

It is the miller’s daughter

K

King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap

L

Leodogran, the King of Cameliard

Lo, as a dove when up she springs

Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm

Love is and was my Lord and King

M

More than my brothers are to me

My love has talk’d with rocks and trees

My own dim life should teach me this

N

Now fades the last long streak of snow

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white

Now, sometimes in my sorrow shut

O

O days and hours, your work is this

O living will that shalt endure

O Love, Love, Love! O withering might!

O loyal to the royal in thyself

O purblind race of miserable men

O Sorrow, cruel fellowship

O Sorrow, wilt thou live with me

O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South

O thou that after toil and storm

O true and tried, so well and long

Oh, wast thou with me, dearest, then

Oh yet we trust that somehow good

Old Fitz, who from your suburb grange

Old warder of these buried bones

Old Yew, which graspest at the stones

On either side the river lie

On that last night before we went

One writes, that „Other friends remain,“

P

Peace; come away: the song of woe

Pellam the King, who held and lost with Lot

Q

Queen Guinevere had fled the court, and sat

R

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky

Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again [Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again]

Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again [Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again]

S

Sad Hesper o’er the buried sun

Sleep, kinsman thou to death and trance

So careful of the type? but no

So many worlds, so much to do

Still onward winds the dreary way

Strong Son of God, immortal Love

Sunset and evening star

Sweet after showers, ambrosial air

Sweet soul, do with me as thou wilt

T

Take wings of fancy, and ascend

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean

Tears of the widower, when he sees

That each, who seems a separate whole

That story which the bold Sir Bedivere

That which we dare invoke to bless

The baby new to earth and sky

The brave Geraint, a knight of Arthur’s court

The churl in spirit, up or down

The Danube to the Severn gave

The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent

The lesser griefs that may be said

The love that rose on stronger wings

The path by which we twain did go

The time draws near the birth of Christ [The time draws near the birth of Christ]

The time draws near the birth of Christ [The time draws near the birth of Christ]

The wish, that of the living whole

There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier

There rolls the deep where grew the tree

These to His Memory--since he held them dear

This truth came borne with bier and pall

Tho’ if an eye that’s downward cast

Tho’ truths in manhood darkly join

Thou comest, much wept for: such a breeze

Thy converse drew us with delight

Thy spirit ere our fatal loss

Thy voice is on the rolling air

Tis held that sorrow makes us wise

Tis well; ’tis something; we may stand

To Sleep I give my powers away

To-night the winds begin to rise

To-night ungather’d let us leave

U

Unwatch’d, the garden bough shall sway

Urania speaks with darken’d brow

Y

Yet if some voice that man could trust

Yet pity for a horse o’er-driven

You leave us: you will see the Rhine

You say, but with no touch of scorn

You thought my heart too far diseased