Bacchanalia or The New Age (Matthew Arnold Poems)
IThe evening comes, the fields are still.The tinkle of the thirsty rill,Unheard all day, ascends again;Deserted is the half-mown plain,Silent ...
IThe evening comes, the fields are still.The tinkle of the thirsty rill,Unheard all day, ascends again;Deserted is the half-mown plain,Silent ...
In deep green woods there lies a fairy glade,Shut in by tawny hemlocks wild and tall;Its floor is made with ...
Thunder blossoms gorgeously above our heads,Great, hollow, bell-like flowers,Rumbling in the wind,Stretching clappers to strike our ears . . .Full-lipped ...
"Bill Dwiggins had been Billy thirty years,A boyish name which piqued his clever wife,As if her man were ticketed light-weightOut ...
At Quincey's moat the squandering village ends, And there in the almshouse dwell the dearest friends ...
A Perfect peaceful stillness reigns,Not e'en a passing playful breezeThe sword-shaped flax blades gently stirs:The vale and slopes of rising ...
One day I caught up with my angel, she Who calls me bell-like from a sky-touched tower.'Twas in my roof-room, ...
I loved to toy with tuneful rhyme, My fancies into verse to weave; For as I walked my words would ...
Lolling on a bank of thyme Drunk with Spring I made this rhyme. . . . Though peoples perish in ...
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