Stanzas In Memory Of The Author Of ‘Obermann’ (Matthew Arnold Poems)
In front the awful Alpine track Crawls up its rocky stair; The autumn storm-winds drive the rack, Close o'er it, in the air. Behind ...
In front the awful Alpine track Crawls up its rocky stair; The autumn storm-winds drive the rack, Close o'er it, in the air. Behind ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village street its ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy wistful flock ...
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 ...
One morn as through Hyde Park we walk'd,My friend and I, by chance we talk'dOf Lessing's famed Laocooen;And after we awhile ...
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 ...
That son of Italy who tried to blow,Ere Dante came, the trump of sacred song,In his light youth amid a festal throngSate with ...
When I shall be divorced, some ten years hence,From this poor present self which I am now;When youth has done ...
'Not by the justice that my father spurn'd, Not for the thousands whom my father slew, Altars unfed and temples ...
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 ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
The Youth Faster, faster, O Circe, Goddess, Let the wild, thronging train The bright procession Of eddying forms, Sweep through ...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from ...
'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here, And ease from shame, and rest from fear. There's nothing can dismarble now ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
What is it to grow old? Is it to lose the glory of the form, The lustre of the eye? ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
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