The Life and Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson: Works: v.1-2 [Poems] v.3. Experiments. The window. In memoriam A.H.H. Maud. Idylls of the king. v.4 Idylls of the king (Continued) v.5 The lover's tale. Ballads, and other poems. Sonnets. Translations, etc. Tiresias, and other poems. v.6. Queen Mary. Harold. v.7. Becket. The cup. The falcon. The promise of May. v.8. The foresters. Demeter, and other poems. The death of OEnone, and other poems. [IndexesMacmillan, 1899 |
From inside the book
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Page 10
... tell him tales of foreign parts , And make him merry , when I come home again . Come , Annie , come , cheer up before I go . ' Him running on thus hopefully she heard , And almost hoped herself ; but when he turn'd The current of his ...
... tell him tales of foreign parts , And make him merry , when I come home again . Come , Annie , come , cheer up before I go . ' Him running on thus hopefully she heard , And almost hoped herself ; but when he turn'd The current of his ...
Page 12
... Yet sicklier , tho ' the mother cared for it With all a mother's care : nevertheless , Whether her business often call'd her from it , Or thro ' the want of what it needed most , Or means to pay the voice who best could tell 12 ENOCH ARDEN.
... Yet sicklier , tho ' the mother cared for it With all a mother's care : nevertheless , Whether her business often call'd her from it , Or thro ' the want of what it needed most , Or means to pay the voice who best could tell 12 ENOCH ARDEN.
Page 13
Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. Or means to pay the voice who best could tell What most it needed - howsoe'er it was , After a lingering , —ere she was aware , - Like the caged bird escaping suddenly , The little innocent soul flitted ...
Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. Or means to pay the voice who best could tell What most it needed - howsoe'er it was , After a lingering , —ere she was aware , - Like the caged bird escaping suddenly , The little innocent soul flitted ...
Page 32
... Thou That didst uphold me on my lonely isle , Uphold me , Father , in my loneliness A little longer ! aid me , give me strength Not to tell her , never to let her know . Help me not to break in upon her peace . 32 ENOCH ARDEN.
... Thou That didst uphold me on my lonely isle , Uphold me , Father , in my loneliness A little longer ! aid me , give me strength Not to tell her , never to let her know . Help me not to break in upon her peace . 32 ENOCH ARDEN.
Page 33
... tell her , never to let her know . ' He was not all unhappy . His resolve Upbore him , and firm faith , and evermore Prayer from a living source within the will , And beating up thro ' all the bitter world , Like fountains of sweet ...
... tell her , never to let her know . ' He was not all unhappy . His resolve Upbore him , and firm faith , and evermore Prayer from a living source within the will , And beating up thro ' all the bitter world , Like fountains of sweet ...
Common terms and phrases
Alfred Lord Tennyson Annie answer'd arms ask'd Averill babe beän break breathe broke brows call'd Celt child cried Cyril dark dead dear death dream dropt Edith Enoch Enoch Arden ev'n evermore eyes face fair fall'n father fear fell fixt Florian flower flying follow'd girl golden half hall hand happy head hear heard heart Heaven honour hour king knew Lady Psyche land laugh'd Leolin light Lilia little birdie living look'd Lord maiden maids Melissa mixt morning mother moved night noble o'er once peace Philip Prince Princess Princess Ida proputty roll'd rolling rose round seem'd shadow shame shook silent Sir Aylmer sleep soul speak spoke star Stept stood sweet talk'd thee thine things thou thought thro turn'd vext voice wall of night watch'd wife wild Winter's tale woke woman
Popular passages
Page 310 - Speak to Him thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet — Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.
Page 246 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns," he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Page 41 - I CHATTER over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow. I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Page 232 - BURY the Great Duke With an empire's lamentation, Let us bury the Great Duke To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation, Mourning when their leaders fall, Warriors carry the warrior's pall, And sorrow darkens hamlet and hall.
Page 42 - I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling, And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I travel With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel, And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river; For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.
Page 156 - The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Page 65 - So Leolin went; and as we task ourselves To learn a language known but smatteringly In phrases here and there at random, toil'd Mastering the lawless science of our law, That codeless myriad of precedent, That wilderness of single instances, Thro' which a few, by wit or fortune led, May beat a pathway out to wealth and fame.
Page 156 - Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river : Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow,...
Page 213 - I strove against the stream and all in vain : Let the great river take me to the main : No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield; Ask me no more.
Page 289 - He seems as one whose footsteps halt, Toiling in immeasurable sand, And o'er a weary, sultry land, Far beneath a blazing vault, Sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous hill, The city sparkles like a grain of salt.