Alfred Lord Tennyson

(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892 / Lincoln / England)

Comments about Alfred Lord Tennyson

  • Ahmed raza (7/20/2018 11:46:00 PM)

    AhmedAhmedrazashaikh780 @Gmail. Com

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  • Ray Jennings (6/6/2018 1:34:00 PM)

    To Keith Coldwell
    Try this link Keith, it'll take you right to it - http: //www.telelib.com/authors/T/TennysonAlfred/verse/ballads/childrenshospital.html

  • sheila carter (5/17/2018 6:33:00 PM)

    Beautiful and meaningful

  • PurpleHeart (5/13/2018 3:23:00 PM)

    Cant find my poem! ! ! ! ! 😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡

  • i hate poetry (5/6/2018 12:05:00 PM)

    this is completely useless

  • khushi (4/11/2018 12:07:00 PM)

    this poet's poem is interesting and meaning full

  • khushi (4/11/2018 12:06:00 PM)

    lord alfred tennyson's poem has a intresting and meaningful poem

  • aman singh (4/9/2018 10:31:00 PM)

    nice poem and good explanitan

  • keith coldwell (3/28/2018 2:15:00 AM)

    I have searched and searched for 'The Children's Hospital' by Tennyson on various sites without success. Has this poem been removed from Tennyson's canon? If so, Why?

  • Nanci Lesley (3/9/2018 11:29:00 AM)

    The Eagle is sublime, written in iambic pentameter, in intense lines that illustrate the power and singular independence, and perhaps loneliness, of such a remarkable beauty and physical powers. Tennyson captures the spirit of this elite bird whose acumen and thought are pure wonder.

Best Poem of Alfred Lord Tennyson

Ulysses

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea. I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known,-- cities of men ...

Read the full of Ulysses

The Grandmother

I.
And Willy, my eldest-born, is gone, you say, little Anne?
Ruddy and white, and strong on his legs, he looks like a man.
And Willy's wife has written: she never was over-wise,
Never the wife for Willy: he would n't take my advice.

II.
For, Annie, you see, her father was not the man to save,
Had n't a head to manage, and drank himself into his grave.

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