Matthew Arnold

A region desolate and wild
Black, chafing water: and afloat,
And lonely as a truant
In a waste wood, a single boat:

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;

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies
Upon the straits;—on the French coast the
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,

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

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 stand

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 the world's temptations; From tribulations; From that fierce anguish Wherein we languish; From tha...

Foil'd by our fellow-men, depress'd, outworn,
We leave the brutal world to take its way,
And,
Patience

Far, far from here,
The Adriatic breaks in a warm
Among the green Illyrian hills; and
The sunshine in the happy glens is fair,

'Twas August, and the fierce sun
Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green,
And the pale weaver, through his windows
In Spitalfields, looked thrice dispirited

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 down, Repellent as the world,--but see, A break between the housetops shows The moon
and lost ...

Mist clogs the sunshine
Smoky dwarf
Hem me round everywhere;
A vague

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