Matthew Arnold Poems
Shakespeare Others abide our question. Thou art free.
We ask and ask-thou smilest and art still,Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill,
Requiescat Strew on her roses, roses,
And never a spray of yew!In quiet she reposes;
Philomela Hark! ah, the nightingale-
The tawny-throated!Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
Longing Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!For so the night will more than pay
Isolation: To Marguerite We were apart; yet, day by day,
I bade my heart more constant be.I bade it keep the world away,
Hayeswater A region desolate and wild.
Black, chafing water: and afloat,And lonely as a truant child
Growing Old What is it to grow old?
Is it to lose the glory of the form,The lustre of the eye?
East London 'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead
Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green,And the pale weaver, through his windows seen
Dover Beach The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fairUpon the straits; on the French coast the light
Consolation Mist clogs the sunshine.
Smoky dwarf housesHem me round everywhere;
A Wish I ask not that my bed of death
From bands of greedy heirs be free;For these besiege the latest breath
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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