Matthew Arnold

What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls
a butterfly.

What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls
a butterfly.

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!

Children of men! the unseen Power, whose eye
Forever doth accompany mankind,
Hath look'd on no religion read more

Children of men! the unseen Power, whose eye
Forever doth accompany mankind,
Hath look'd on no religion scornfully
That men did ever find.

If Paris that brief flight allow,
My humble tomb explore!
It bears: "Eternity, be thou
read more

If Paris that brief flight allow,
My humble tomb explore!
It bears: "Eternity, be thou
My refuge!" and no more.

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.