The Church Of Brou (Matthew Arnold Poems)
ITHE CASTLE Down the Savoy valleys sounding, Echoing round this castle old, 'Mid the distant mountain-chalets Hark! what bell for church is toll'd? In the ...
ITHE CASTLE Down the Savoy valleys sounding, Echoing round this castle old, 'Mid the distant mountain-chalets Hark! what bell for church is toll'd? In the ...
Above the skirts of yellow clouds,The god-like Sun, arrayedIn blinding splendour, swiftly rose,And looked athwart the glade;The sleepy dingo watched ...
NOW , when the kindling Spring breathes life and joyThrough earth and air, perfuming field and bow'r;While rings from every ...
Where the violet shadows brood Under cottonwoods and beeches, Through whose leaves the restless reaches Of the river glance, I've stood, While the red-bird ...
When homeward bands their several ways disperse,I love to linger in the narrow fieldOf rest, to wander round from tomb ...
Upon an eve I sat me down and wept,Because the world to me seemed nowise good;Still autumn was it, & ...
But see the fading many-colour'd woods,Shade deepening over shade, the country roundImbrown; a crowded umbrage, dusk, and dun,Of every hue, ...
Sweet chestnuts brown like soling leather turn; The larch trees, like the colour of the Sun;That paled sky in the Autumn ...
My garden roses long agoHave perished from the leaf-strewn walks;Their pale, fair sisters smile no moreUpon the sweet-brier stalks.Gone with ...
When April woke the drowsy flowers, And vagrant odors thronged the breeze,And bluebirds wrangled in the bowers, And daisies flashed along the ...
OCTOBER, May of the descending days,Mid-Spring of Autumn, on the shortening stairOf the year's eld abiding still and fair,A pause ...
And Thou art One—One with th' eternal hills,And with the flaming stars, and with the moon,Translucent, cold. The sentinel of ...
ON Dinan's walls the morning sunlight plays, Gilds the stern fortress with a crown of rays, Shines on the children's ...
The harbingers are come. See, see their mark;White is their colour; and behold my head. ...
The butcher knife goes in, first, at the top And carves out the round stemmed lid, The hole of which ...
The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; White is their colour; and behold my head. -- George Herbert Long ...
"OLD Norbert with the flat blue cap-- A German said to be-- Why let your pipe die on your lap, ...
O Mother Earth! upon thy lap Thy weary ones receiving, And o'er them, silent as a dream, Thy grassy mantle ...
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