Matthew Arnold

Strew on her roses, roses, / And never a spray of yew. / In quiet she reposes: / Ah! would read more

Strew on her roses, roses, / And never a spray of yew. / In quiet she reposes: / Ah! would that I did too!

And see all sights from pole to pole
And glance, and nod, and bustle by,
And never read more

And see all sights from pole to pole
And glance, and nod, and bustle by,
And never once possess our soul
Before we die.

Six years--six little years--six drops of time.

Six years--six little years--six drops of time.

What then remains, but that we still should cry
Not to be born, or being born to die.

What then remains, but that we still should cry
Not to be born, or being born to die.

One thing only has been lent to youth and age in common--discontent.

One thing only has been lent to youth and age in common--discontent.