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• And topples round the dreary west A looming bastion fringed with fire.
  -- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, xv, Stanza 5...
• Who battled for the True, the Just. -- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, lvi, Stanza 5
• But what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry.
  -- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, liv, Stanza 5...
• Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in!
  -- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, cv, Stanza 5...
• And from his ashes may be made The violet of his native land.
  -- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, xviii, Stanza 1...
• And grasps the skirts of happy chance, And breasts the blows of circumstance.
  -- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, lxiv, Stanza 2...
• Her eyes are homes of silent prayer.
  -- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, xxxii, Stanza 1...
• He seems so near, and yet so far. -- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, xcvii, Stanza 6
• I do but sing because I must, And pipe but as the linnets sing.
  -- Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) -- In Memoriam, xxi, Stanza 6...