Alfred Lord Tennyson

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

Alfred Lord Tennyson Poems

161. Come Down, O Maid 1/1/2004
162. The Lotos-Eaters 1/1/2004
163. Claribel: A Melody 1/1/2004
164. Now Sleeps The Crimson Petal 1/1/2004
165. Lancelot And Elaine 1/1/2004
166. O Beauty, Passing Beauty! 1/1/2004
167. Freedom 4/8/2010
168. Boadicea 1/1/2004
169. Beautiful City 1/1/2004
170. By An Evolutionist 1/1/2004
171. Amphion 1/1/2004
172. The Owl 1/1/2004
173. Come Into The Garden, Maud 1/1/2004
174. Tears, Idle Tears 1/1/2004
175. The Kraken 4/8/2010
176. After-Thought 1/1/2004
177. Blow, Bugle, Blow 1/1/2004
178. Cradle Song 1/1/2004
179. Ask Me No More 1/1/2004
180. Come Not When I Am Dead 1/1/2004
181. The Lady Of Shalott (1842) 1/1/2004
182. Ring Out , Wild Bells 4/8/2010
183. Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead 1/1/2004
184. The Flower 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. The Brook 1/1/2004
190. Charge Of The Light Brigade 1/1/2004
191. Crossing The Bar 1/1/2004
192. All Things Will Die 1/1/2004
193. Ulysses 1/1/2004

Comments about Alfred Lord Tennyson

  • Namrata Nath (8/26/2012 3:29:00 AM)

    alfred lord tennyson is a great poet. I just read The brook. It's so mesmerising the way he uses the words and sounds and everything. Please check out the poem guys. It's totally out of the world! ! !

    109 person liked.
    85 person did not like.
  • Kevin Straw Kevin Straw (6/4/2012 1:33:00 PM)

    “crookéd hands” (2 syllables) is wrong.
    “The man clasped his stick with crookéd hands.” implies hands out of shape.
    But an eagle’s “feet” are flexible to curve and have long curved claws at the end. Tennyson presumably had not seen an eagle’s feet.
    I would not say that an eagle on a mountain is “close to the sun”.
    I am not sure about “from his mountain walls” – the eagle is watching from a crag – what is the point of “walls”? “his mountain wall” would be a better metaphor denoting the perpendicularity of the crag which allows the eagle to fall “like a thunderbolt”. But the rhyme would be lost.
    Can anyone tell me if this method of hunting is used by eagles? Do they not hunt by flying and then stooping on their prey?
    The poet is trying to anthropomorphise the eagle but he does not help the poem by doing so.
    Calling the eagle “he” and giving it “hands” etc. deprives it of its savage nature reminding one of Wind in the Willows!
    But the overall rhetorical power of the poem cannot be denied.

  • Nelson P (10/28/2011 12:38:00 PM)

    Hey folks, my band Wrong Side of Dawn wrote a song based on the words to 'Crossing the Bar' by Alfred Lord Tennyson. You can watch the Youtube video at http: //youtu.be/FjY-0p_jE1k or download the song at http: //music.wrongsideofdawn.com/track/crossing-the-bar :) Hope you enjoy it!

  • Meshack Lebane (7/5/2011 6:19:00 AM)

    Very intersting I wish this simple words were taught at school our poets this days are
    Adicted to bid words which is distort the meaning at times! ! !

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

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

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

Merlin And Vivien

A storm was coming, but the winds were still,
And in the wild woods of Broceliande,
Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old
It looked a tower of ivied masonwork,
At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay.

For he that always bare in bitter grudge
The slights of Arthur and his Table, Mark
The Cornish King, had heard a wandering voice,

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