Alfred Lord Tennyson

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

Alfred Lord Tennyson Poems

161. Boadicea 1/1/2004
162. In Memoriam 16: I Envy Not In Any Moods 1/1/2004
163. Amphion 1/1/2004
164. Claribel: A Melody 1/1/2004
165. O Beauty, Passing Beauty! 1/1/2004
166. The Charge Of The Light Brigade 4/8/2010
167. Far-Far-Away 4/8/2010
168. By An Evolutionist 1/1/2004
169. Come Into The Garden, Maud 1/1/2004
170. Demeter And Persephone 1/1/2004
171. Freedom 4/8/2010
172. The Owl 1/1/2004
173. Tears, Idle Tears 1/1/2004
174. Ring Out , Wild Bells 4/8/2010
175. Cradle Song 1/1/2004
176. Blow, Bugle, Blow 1/1/2004
177. The Kraken 4/8/2010
178. Beautiful City 1/1/2004
179. After-Thought 1/1/2004
180. The Lady Of Shalott (1842) 1/1/2004
181. Come Not When I Am Dead 1/1/2004
182. The Flower 1/1/2004
183. Ask Me No More 1/1/2004
184. Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead 1/1/2004
185. Break, Break, Break 4/8/2010
186. ‘and Ask Ye Why These Sad Tears Stream?’ 1/1/2004
187. The Eagle 1/1/2004
188. A Farewell 1/1/2004
189. Charge Of The Light Brigade 1/1/2004
190. Crossing The Bar 1/1/2004
191. All Things Will Die 1/1/2004
192. The Brook 1/1/2004
193. Ulysses 1/1/2004

Comments about Alfred Lord Tennyson

  • Chris Hoare (5/22/2005 11:33:00 AM)

    there seem to be some missing words. Would the web manager please check and correct?

    54 person liked.
    54 person did not like.
Best Poem of Alfred Lord Tennyson


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

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.

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.

[Report Error]