The Last Word (Matthew Arnold Poem)
Creep into thy narrow bed, Creep, and let no more be said! Vain thy onset! all stands fast. Thou thyself ...
Creep into thy narrow bed, Creep, and let no more be said! Vain thy onset! all stands fast. Thou thyself ...
Others abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask-thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest ...
Who prop, thou ask'st in these bad days, my mind?-- He much, the old man, who, clearest-souled of men, Saw ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
We were apart; yet, day by day, I bade my heart more constant be. I bade it keep the world ...
Come to me in my dreams, and then By day I shall be well again! For so the night will ...
Tell me not in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!— For the soul is dead that slumbers, And ...
Thou fair hair'd angel of the evening, Now, while the sun rests on the mountains light, Thy bright torch of ...
I have no name I am but two days old.-- What shall I call thee? I happy am Joy is ...
Little Lamb, who made thee Does thou know who made thee Gave thee life & bid thee feed. By the ...
Awake, awake my little Boy! Thou wast thy Mother's only joy: Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep? Awake! ...
To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the ...
O Rose thou art sick. The invisible worm. That flies in the night In the howling storm: Has found out ...
I went to the Garden of Love. And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the ...
Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory— Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. ...
Tell her that’s young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung, In deserts where no men ...
I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the ...
The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With ...
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day ? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake ...
Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise As souls to the immortal skies, And there look down like mothers' eyes. ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories