Matthew Arnold

Then gazing up 'mid the dim pillars high,
The foliaged marble forest where ye lie,
Hush, ye read more

Then gazing up 'mid the dim pillars high,
The foliaged marble forest where ye lie,
Hush, ye will say, it is eternity!
This is the glimmering verge of heaven, and there
The columns of the heavenly palaces.

Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.

Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.

Hark! ah, the nightingale--
The tawny-throated!
Hark from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
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Hark! ah, the nightingale--
The tawny-throated!
Hark from that moonlit cedar what a burst!
What triumph! hark!--what pain!
. . . .
Again--thou hearest?
Eternal passion!
Eternal pain!

With aching hands and bleeding feet
We dig and heap, lay stone on stone;
We bear the read more

With aching hands and bleeding feet
We dig and heap, lay stone on stone;
We bear the burden and the heat
Of the long day, and wish 'twere done.
Not till the hours of light return
All we have built as we discern.

The Greek word euphuia, a finely tempered nature, gives exactly
the notion of perfection as culture brings us to read more

The Greek word euphuia, a finely tempered nature, gives exactly
the notion of perfection as culture brings us to perceive it; a
harmonious perfection, a perfection in which the characters of
beauty and intelligence are both present, which unites "the two
noblest of things"--as Swift . . . most happily calls them in his
Battle of the Books, "the two noblest of things, sweetness and
light."