Mycerinus (Matthew Arnold Poem)
'Not by the justice that my father spurn'd, Not for the thousands whom my father slew, Altars unfed and temples ...
'Not by the justice that my father spurn'd, Not for the thousands whom my father slew, Altars unfed and temples ...
Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts, Thick breaks the red flame. All Etna heaves fiercely Her forest-clothed frame. Not here, O ...
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 ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
In this lone, open glade I lie, Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand; And at its end, to stay ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade ...
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 ...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from ...
As the kindling glances, Queen-like and clear, Which the bright moon lances From her tranquil sphere At the sleepless waters ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
The world is full of women who'd tell me I should be ashamed of myself if they had the chance. ...
The rest of us watch from beyond the fence as the woman moves with her jagged stride into her pain ...
A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry ...
I've got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the ...
For some we loved, the loveliest and the best That from His vintage rolling Time hath pressed, Have drunk the ...
I. Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles, Miles and miles On the solitary pastures where our sheep Half-asleep Tinkle ...
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