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!

Youth dreams a bliss on this side of death.
It dreams a rest, if not more deep,
read more

Youth dreams a bliss on this side of death.
It dreams a rest, if not more deep,
More grateful than this marble sleep;
It hears a voice within it tell:
Calm's not life's crown, though calm is well.
'Tis all perhaps which man acquires,
But 'tis not what our youth desires.

On one she smiles, and he was blest;
She smiles elsewhere--we make a din!
But 'twas not read more

On one she smiles, and he was blest;
She smiles elsewhere--we make a din!
But 'twas not love which heaved her breast,
Fair child!--it was the bliss within.

Nature's great law, and law of all men's minds?--
To its own impulse every creature stirs;
Live read more

Nature's great law, and law of all men's minds?--
To its own impulse every creature stirs;
Live by thy light, and earth will live by hers!

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.