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Matthew Arnold

Matthew Arnold

Matthew Arnold (1822–1888) was an English poet and critic whose poems "Dover Beach" and "The Scholar Gipsy" explore Victorian doubt and the search for meaning. His criti…

154 Lines Found (Page 2 of 3)

"CALLICLES (front below)     Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,     Thick breaks the red flame;     All Etna heaves fiercely     Her fo"

"I     THE RIVER     Still glides the stream, slow drops the boat     Under the rustling poplars shade;     Silent the swans beside us float"

"For him who must see many years,     I praise the life which slips away     Out of the light and mutely; which avoids     Fame, and her less fa"

"Creep into thy narrow bed, Creep, and let no more be said! Vain thy onset! all stands fast. Thou thyself must break at last. Let the long con"

"A region desolate and wild,     Black, chafing water: and afloat,     And lonely as a truant child     In a waste wood, a single boat:     No"

"In the deserted, moon-blanched street, How lonely rings the echo of my feet! Those windows, which I gaze at, frown, Silent and white, unopening"

"Yes: in the sea of life enisld,     With echoing straits between us thrown,     Dotting the shoreless watery wild,     We mortal millions liv"

"Children (as such forgive them) have I known,     Ever in their own eager pastime bent     To make the incurious bystander, intent     On his o"

"Set where the upper streams of Simois flow Was the Palladium, high 'mid rock and wood; And Hector was in Ilium, far below, And fought, and saw it n"

"I ask not that my bed of death From bands of greedy heirs be free; For these besiege the latest breath Of fortune's favoured sons, not me. I ask"

"Oh could thy grave at home, at Carthage, be!     Care not for that, and lay me where I fall.     Everywhere heard will be the judgment-call."

"I must not say that thou wert true,     Yet let me say that thou wert fair.     And they that lovely face who view,     They will not ask if tr"

"Henri Heine, , tis here!     The black tombstone, the name     Carved there, no more! and the smooth,     Swarded alleys, the limes     Tou"

"Again I see my bliss at hand;     The town, the lake are here.     My Marguerite smiles upon the strand     Unalterd with the year.     I kn"

"The Master stood upon the mount, and taught. He saw a fire in his disciples eyes; The old law, they said, is wholly come to naught! Behold the"

"In front the awful Alpine track Crawls up its rocky stair; The autumn storm-winds drive the rack, Close o'er it, in the air. Behind are the"

"Artist, whose hand, with horror wingd, hath torn     From the rank life of towns this leaf: and flung     The prodigy of full-blown crime among"

"This sentence have I left behind:     An aching body, and a mind     Not wholly clear, nor wholly blind,     Too keen to rest, too weak to find"

"Crouch'd on the pavement close by Belgrave Square A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue-tied; A babe was in her arms, and at her side A girl; their"

"Hist! once more!     Listen, Pausanias!Aye, tis Callicles!     I know those notes among a thousand.    Hark!          CALLICLES          ("

"Still glides the stream, slow drops the boat     Under the rustling poplars shade;     Silent the swans beside us float     None speaks, none"

"I     THE LAST GLEN                                                     Hist! once more!     Listen, Pausanias! Aye, tis Callicles!     I k"

"Is it so small a thing To have enjoy'd the sun, To have lived light in the spring, To have loved, to have thought, to have done; To have advanced"

"We were apart: yet, day by day,     I bade my heart more constant be;     I bade it keep the world away,     And grow a home for only thee:"

"Stop Not to me, at this bitter departing,     Speak of the sure consolations of Time.     Fresh be the wound, still-renewd be its smarting,"

"Was it a dream? We saild, I thought we saild,     Martin and I, down a green Alpine stream,     Under oerhanging pines; the morning sun,"

"In the bare midst of Anglesey they show     Two springs which close by one another play,     And, Thirteen hundred years agone, they say,"

"To die be given us, or attain!     Fierce work it were, to do again.     So pilgrims, bound for Mecca, prayd     At burning noon: so warriors"

"Saint Brandan sails the northern main; The brotherhood of saints are glad. He greets them once, he sails again; So late! such storms! The Saint is"

"In this lone, open glade I lie, Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand; And at its end, to stay the eye, Those black-crown'd, red-boled pine-trees"

"Silent, the Lord of the world     Eyes from the heavenly height,     Girt by his far-shining train,     Us, who with banners unfurld     Figh"

"Moderate tasks and moderate leisure,     Quiet living, strict-kept measure     Both in suffering and in pleasure     Tis for this thy nature y"

"Thou, who dost dwell alone,     Thou, who dost know thine own,     Thou, to whom all are known     From the cradle to the grave,     Save, oh,"

"Tristram     Is she not come? The messenger was sure.     Prop me upon the pillows once again     Raise me, my page! this cannot long endure."

"I. The Castle Down the Savoy valleys sounding, Echoing round this castle old, 'Mid the distant mountain-chalets Hark! what bell for church"

"That son of Italy who tried to blow,     Ere Dante came, the trump of sacred song,     In his light youth amid a festal throng     Sate with hi"

"CALLICLES (from below)     As the sky-brightening south-wind clears the day,     And makes the massd clouds roll,     The music of the lyre"

""Not by the justice that my father spurn'd, Not for the thousands whom my father slew, Altars unfed and temples overturn'd, Cold hearts and thankle"

"And they remember     With piercing untold anguish     The proud boasting of their youth.     And they feel how Nature was fair.     And the m"

"What is it to grow old? Is it to lose the glory of the form, The lustre of the eye? Is it for beauty to forego her wreath? Yes, but not for this a"

"Murmur of living!     Stir of existence!     Soul of the world!     Make, oh make yourselves felt     To the dying spirit of Youth.     Come,"

"Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease. But one such death remain'd to come; The last poetic voice is dumb W"

"Mist clogs the sunshine. Smoky dwarf houses Hem me round everywhere; A vague dejection Weighs down my soul. Yet, while I languish, Everywhere co"

"Thou, who dost dwell alone; Thou, who dost know thine own; Thou, to whom all are known, From the cradle to the grave, Save, O, save! From"

"What made my heart, at Newstead, fullest swell?     Twas not the thought of Byron, of his cry     Stormily sweet, his Titan agony;     It was"

"'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here, And ease from shame, and rest from fear. There's nothing can dismarble now The smoothness of that limpid br"

"PERSONS:     EMPEDOCLES.     PAUSANIAS, a Physician.     CALLICLES, a young Harp-player.     The Scene of the Poem is on Mount Etna; at first"

"I saw him sensitive in frame,     I knew his spirits low;     And wishd him health, success, and fame:     I do not wish it now.     For the"

"Ten years! and to my waking eye     Once more the roofs of Berne appear;     The rocky banks, the terrace high,     The stream, and do I linger"

"He advances to the edge of the crater. Smoke and fire break forth with a loud noise, and CALLICLES is heard below singing:     The lyres voic"

"We, O Nature, depart:     Thou survivest us: this,     This, I know, is the law.     Yes, but more than this,     Thou who seest us die     S"

"In this fair strangers eyes of grey     Thine eyes, my love, I see.     I shudder: for the passing day     Had borne me far from thee.     T"

"I     SENDING     So on the floor lay Balder dead; and round     Lay thickly strewn swords axes darts and spears     Which all the Gods in s"

"In two small volumes of Poems, published anonymously, one in 1849, the other in 1852, many of the Poems which compose the present volume have alre"

"Raisd are the dripping oars     Silent the boat: the lake,     Lovely and soft as a dream,     Swims in the sheen of the moon.     The mounta"

"In summer, on the headlands,     The Baltic Sea along,     Sits Neckan with his harp of gold,     And sings his plaintive song.     Green rol"

"Yes! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone. The isl"

"Yes, now the longing is oerpast,     Which, doggd by fear and fought by shame,     Shook her weak bosom day and night,     Consumd her beaut"

"So far as I conceive the Worlds rebuke     To him addressd who would recast her new,     Not from herself her fame of strength she took,"

"Come to me in my dreams, and then By day I shall be well again! For so the night will more than pay The hopeless longing of the day. Come, as"

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