Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809 - 1892)

Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), English poet often regarded as the chief representative of the Victorian age in poetry. Tennyson succeeded Wordsworth as Poet Laureate in 1850.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson was born on August 5, 1809 in Somersby, Lincolnshire. His father, George Clayton Tennyson, a clergyman and rector, suffered from depression and was notoriously absentminded. Alfred began to write poetry at an early age in the style of Lord Byron. After spending four unhappy years in school he was tutored at home. Tennyson then studied at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he joined the literary club 'The Apostles' and met Arthur Hallam, who became his closest friend. Tennyson published Poems, Chiefly Lyrical, in 1830, which included the popular "Mariana".

His next book, Poems (1833), received unfavorable reviews, and Tennyson ceased to publish for nearly ten years. Hallam died suddenly on the same year in Vienna. It was a heavy blow to Tennyson. He began to write "In Memoriam", an elegy for his lost friend - the work took seventeen years. "The Lady of Shalott", "The Lotus-eaters" "Morte d'Arthur" and "Ulysses" appeared in 1842 in the two-volume Poems and established his reputation as a writer.

After marrying Emily Sellwood, whom he had already met in 1836, the couple settled in Farringford, a house in Freshwater on the Isle of Wight in 1853. From there the family moved in 1869 to Aldworth, Surrey. During these later years he produced some of his best poems.

Among Tennyson's major poetic achievements is the elegy mourning the death of his friend Arthur Hallam, "In Memoriam" (1850). The patriotic poem "Charge of the Light Brigade", published in Maud (1855), is one of Tennyson's best known works, although at first "Maud" was found obscure or morbid by critics ranging from George Eliot to Gladstone. Enoch Arden (1864) was based on a true story of a sailor thought drowned at sea who returned home after several years to find that his wife had remarried. Idylls Of The King (1859-1885) dealt with the Arthurian theme.

In the 1870s Tennyson wrote several plays, among them the poetic dramas Queen Mary (1875) and Harold (1876). In 1884 he was created a baron.

Tennyson died at Aldwort on October 6, 1892 and was buried in the Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey.

The poems are by default sorted according to volume, but you can also choose to sort them alphabetically or by page views.

First Line	Comments
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1. Is it the wind of the dawn that I hear
A city clerk, but gently born and bred;
A prince I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face,
Again at Christmas did we weave
All along the valley, stream that flashest white,
As thro' the land at eve we went,
Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;
Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;
At break of day the College Portress came:
At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,	1 Comment
Athelstan King,
Audley Court
Beautiful city
Birds' love and birds' song
Break, break, break,	12 Comments
By an Evolutionist
By night we linger'd on the lawn,
Calm is the morn without a sound,
Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing
Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height:
COME down, O maid, from yonder mountain height:
Come into the garden, Maud,	1 Comment
Come into the garden, Maud,
Come not, when I am dead,	1 Comment
Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 't is early morn:
Contemplate all this work of Time,
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Dark house, by which once more I stand
Dedication
Deep on the convent-roof the snows
Dip down upon the northern shore
Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaäy?
Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable,
Faint as a climate-changing bird that flies
Fair is her cottage in its place,
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done
Half a league, half a league,	8 Comments
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;	14 Comments
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Home they brought her warrior dead:
Home they brought her warrior dead:	1 Comment
How fares it with the happy dead?
How thought you that this thing could captivate?
I	1 Comment
I
I	1 Comment
I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house,
I come from haunts of coot and hern,	15 Comments
I envy not in any moods
I envy not in any moods
I sometimes hold it half a sin
I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,
I wage not any feud with Death
I wage not any feud with Death
I.
I.	1 Comment
IN her ear he whispers gaily,
In Memoriam A. H. H., by Alfred lord TennysonOBIIT
Is it, then, regret for buried time
It is the miller's daughter,
It little profits that an idle king,	7 Comments
IT was the time when lilies blow,
King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap
Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill!	1 Comment
Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Life and Thought have gone away	1 Comment
LIKE souls that balance joy and pain,
Live thy life,	1 Comment
Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm;
Love is and was my Lord and King,
Lucilla, wedded to Lucretius, found
Minnie and Winnie	1 Comment
Morn in the wake of the morning star
Move eastward, happy earth, and leave
My dream had never died or lived again.
MY father left a park to me,
MY good blade carves the casques of men,
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Now, scarce three paces measured from the mound,
O beauty, passing beauty! Sweetest sweet!	1 Comment
O living will that shalt endure
O living will that shalt endure
O Love, Love, Love! O withering might!
O loyal to the royal in thyself,
O mighty-mouth'd inventor of harmonies,
O purblind race of miserable men,
O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,
O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,
O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South,
O you chorus of indolent reviewers,
O, were I loved as I desire to be!
Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
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
Once in a golden hour	3 Comments
Once more the gate behind me falls;
One writes, that "Other friends remain,"
Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n: the seed,
Part I	7 Comments
Pellam the King, who held and lost with Lot
Queen Guinevere had fled the court, and sat
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again,
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again,
Roman Virgil, thou that singest
Sad Hesper o'er the buried sun
She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's day
So all day long the noise of battle roll'd
So closed our tale, of which I give you all
So was their sanctuary violated,
Still on the tower stood the vane,
Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Sunset and evening star,	13 Comments
Sweet and low, sweet and low,	4 Comments
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,	13 Comments
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,
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 groundflame of the crocus breaks the mould,
The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
The path by which we twain did go,
The splendour falls on castle walls
THE splendour falls on castle walls
The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the plains,-
The wind, that beats the mountain, blows
The wish, that of the living whole
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,
There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier
Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums,
To-night the winds begin to rise
To-night ungather'd let us leave
Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud;
Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud;
What does little birdie say
Wheer 'asta beän saw long and meä liggin' 'ere aloän?
When cats run home and light is come,
When on my bed the moonlight falls,
WHEN the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free
Where Claribel low-lieth
Where Claribel low-lieth
While about the shore of Mona those Neronian legionaries
WITH BLACKEST moss the flower-plots	2 Comments
With one black shadow at its feet,
Written at the Request of the Mantuans for the Nineteenth Centenary of
You ask me, why, tho' ill at ease,
You say, but with no touch of scorn,
"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land,
"So careful of the type?" but no.
'And ask ye why these sad tears stream?'
'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun,
'Your ringlets, your ringlets,