Matthew Arnold

I must not say that she was true,
Yet let me say that she was fair;
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I must not say that she was true,
Yet let me say that she was fair;
And they, that lovely face who view,
They should not ask if truth be there.

Wandering between two worlds, one dead,/ The other powerless to be born.

Wandering between two worlds, one dead,/ The other powerless to be born.

The grand style arises in poetry, when a noble nature, treats with simplicity or with severity a serious subject

The grand style arises in poetry, when a noble nature, treats with simplicity or with severity a serious subject

This strange disease of modern life, with its sick hurry, its divided aims.

This strange disease of modern life, with its sick hurry, its divided aims.

This strange disease of modern life,
With its sick hurry, its divided aims.

This strange disease of modern life,
With its sick hurry, its divided aims.