Matthew Arnold Poems
The evening comes, the fields are still.
Sohrab And Rustum And the first grey of morning fill'd the east,
And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream.
But all the Tartar camp along the stream
Worldly Place Even in a palace, life may be led well!
So spake the imperial sage, purest of men, Marcus Aurelius. But the stifling den
Lines Written In Kensington Gardens In this lone, open glade I lie,
Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand;
And at its end, to stay the eye,
Geist's Grave Four years!--and didst thou stay above
The ground, which hides thee now, but four?
And all that life, and all that love,
A Dream Was it a dream? We sail'd, I thought we sail'd,
Martin and I, down the green Alpine stream,
Border'd, each bank, with pines; the morning sun,
Immortality Foil'd by our fellow-men, depress'd, outworn,
We leave the brutal world to take its way,
And, Patience! in another life, we say
Tristram And Iseult I
Obermann Once More Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts
All meaning from a name!
White houses prank where once were huts.
The Buried Life Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet,
Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet!
I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll.
A Summer Night In the deserted, moon-blanched street,
How lonely rings the echo of my feet!
Those windows, which I gaze at, frown,
Mycerinus 'Not by the justice that my father spurn'd,
Not for the thousands whom my father slew,
Altars unfed and temples overturn'd,
Palladium Set where the upper streams of Simois flow
Was the Palladium, high 'mid rock and wood;
And Hector was in Ilium, far below,
Youth And Calm 'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here,
And ease from shame, and rest from fear. There's nothing can dismarble now
Revolutions Before man parted for this earthly strand,
While yet upon the verge of heaven he stood,
God put a heap of letters in his hand,
From The Hymn Of Empedocles IS it so small a thing
To have enjoy'd the sun, To have lived light in the spring,
Epilogue To Lessing's Laocooen One morn as through Hyde Park we walk'd,
My friend and I, by chance we talk'd
Of Lessing's famed Laocooen;
To A Republican Friend God knows it, I am with you. If to prize
Those virtues, priz'd and practis'd by too few,
But priz'd, but lov'd, but eminent in you,
The Good Shepherd With The Kid _He saves the sheep, the goats he doth not save._
So rang Tertullian's sentence, on the side
Of that unpitying Phrygian Sect which cried:
Stanzas From The Grande Chartreuse Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused
With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused,
The Scholar-gipsy Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill;
Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes!
No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed,
The Strayed Reveller The Youth
Rugby Chapel Coldly, sadly descends
The autumn-evening. The fieldStrewn with its dank yellow drifts
Thyrsis A Monody How changed is here each spot man makes or fills!
In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village street its haunted mansion lacks,
Progress The Master stood upon the mount, and taught.
He saw a fire in his disciplesâ?? eyes; â??The old lawâ??, they said, â??is wholly come to naught!
Desire Thou, who dost dwell alone;
Thou, who dost know thine own;Thou, to whom all are known,
Cadmus And Harmonia Far, far from here,
The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay Among the green Illyrian hills; and there
Human Life What mortal, when he saw,
Life's voyage done, his heavenly Friend,Could ever yet dare tell him fearlessly:
Morality We cannot kindle when we will
The fire which in the heart resides;The spirit bloweth and is still,
Austerity Of Poetry That son of Italy who tried to blow,
Ere Dante came, the trump of sacred song, In his light youth amid a festal throng
Saint Brandan Saint Brandan sails the northern main;
The brotherhood of saints are glad.He greets them once, he sails again;
Self-dependence Weary of myself, and sick of asking
What I am, and what I ought to be,At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me
The Charge They outtalked thee, hissed thee, tore thee?
Better men fared thus before thee;Fired their ringing shot and pass'd,
Kaiser Dead What, Kaiser dead? The heavy news
Post-haste to Cobham calls the Muse, From where in Farringford she brews
The Better Part Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man,
How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler fare!'Christ,' some one says, 'was human as we are;
Quiet Work One lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee,
One lesson which in every wind is blown, One lesson of two duties kept at one
Apollo Musagetes Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame; All Etna heaves fiercely
Youth's Agitations When I shall be divorced, some ten years hence,
From this poor present self which I am now;When youth has done its tedious vain expense
Memorial Verses Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece,
Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease.But one such death remain'd to come;
The Church Of Brou I
The Song Of Callicles Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame.All Etna heaves fiercely
To Marguerite Yes! in the sea of life enisled,
With echoing straits between us thrown,Dotting the shoreless watery wild,
To A Friend Who prop, thou ask'st in these bad days, my mind?-
He much, the old man, who, clearest-souled of men,Saw The Wide Prospect, and the Asian Fen,
The Voice As the kindling glances,
Queen-like and clear,Which the bright moon lances
The Song Of Empedocles And you, ye stars,
Who slowly begin to marshal,As of old, in the fields of heaven,
The Scholar Gypsy Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill;
Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes!No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed,
The Pagan World In his cool hall, with haggard eyes,
The Roman noble lay;He drove abroad, in furious guise,
The Last Word Creep into thy narrow bed,
Creep, and let no more be said!Vain thy onset! all stands fast.
The Future A wanderer is man from his birth.
He was born in a shipOn the breast of the river of Time;
The Forsaken Merman Come, dear children, let us away;
Down and away below!Now my brothers call from the bay,
Total 161 poems written by Matthew Arnold
Poem of the day
To Germany by Charles Hamilton Sorley
You are blind like us. Your hurt no man designed,
And no man claimed the conquest of your land.
But gropers both through fields of thought confined
We stumble and we do not understand.
You only saw your future bigly planned,
And we, the tapering paths of our own mind,
And in each others dearest ways we stand,
And hiss and hate. And the blind fight the blind.
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