Progress (Matthew Arnold Poem)
The Master stood upon the mount, and taught. He saw a fire in his disciples' eyes; 'The old law', they ...
The Master stood upon the mount, and taught. He saw a fire in his disciples' eyes; 'The old law', they ...
1 Faster, faster, 2 O Circe, Goddess, 3 Let the wild, thronging train 4 The bright procession 5 Of eddying ...
Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were huts. Glion, but not ...
Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts, Thick breaks the red flame; All Etna heaves fiercely Her forest-clothed frame. Not here, O ...
In this lone, open glade I lie, Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand; And at its end, to stay ...
The Youth Faster, faster, O Circe, Goddess, Let the wild, thronging train The bright procession Of eddying forms, Sweep through ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here, And ease from shame, and rest from fear. There's nothing can dismarble now ...
Yes! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal ...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
A wanderer is man from his birth. He was born in a ship On the breast of the river of ...
In his cool hall, with haggard eyes, The Roman noble lay; He drove abroad, in furious guise, Along the Appian ...
Mist clogs the sunshine. Smoky dwarf houses Hem me round everywhere; A vague dejection Weighs down my soul. Yet, while ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below! Now my brothers call from the bay, Now the great ...
What is it to grow old? Is it to lose the glory of the form, The lustre of the eye? ...
This is a word we use to plug holes with. It's the right size for those warm blanks in speech, ...
The night has been long, The wound has been deep, The pit has been dark, And the walls have been ...
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs, Rotting ...
Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise As souls to the immortal skies, And there look down like mothers' eyes. ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories