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Poetical Works of Matthew Arnold
Aid Worker Specialising in Post-Conflict Reconstruction Matthew Arnold,Matthew Arnold
Geen voorbeeld beschikbaar - 2016
∆pytus Afrasiab answer'd Arcas arms art thou Asgard Balder blood blow breast breath Breidablik bright brow Callicles cheeks Chorus cold Cresphontes crown'd Cypselus dark dawn dead dear death deep dost doth dream earth Empedocles Epytus eyes fame father Fausta fear feel friends gazed gloom Gods golden gone grave green grey grief hand hath head hear heard heart Heaven Hela Hela's Hermod Hoder hour Iseult King light live lonely look'd Merope Messenian morn mother mourn Nanna Niflheim night o'er Odin Odin's once Oxus pain pale pass'd Pausanias plain Polyphontes round Rustum sand sate Seistan shalt shining side sleep Sleipner smile Sohrab soul spake spear stand stars stood stream strife sweet Tartar tears Temenus thee thine thou art thou hast throne to-day Tristram voice wandering waves weep wilt wind youth
Pagina 225 - Ah, love, let us be true To one another ! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night.
Pagina 171 - Till the spindle drops from her hand, And the whizzing wheel stands still. She steals to the window, and looks at the sand, And over the sand at the sea; And her eyes are set in a stare...
Pagina 224 - Listen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again begin, With tremulous cadence slow, and bring The eternal note of sadness in.
Pagina 281 - Well ! wind-dispersed and vain the words will be, Yet, Thyrsis, let me give my grief its hour In the old haunt, and find our tree-topp'd hill! Who, if not I, for questing here hath power ? I know the wood which hides the daffodil, I know the Fyfield tree, I know what white, what purple fritillaries The grassy harvest of the river-fields, Above by Ensham, down by Sandford, yields...
Pagina 254 - With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone ; We bear the burden and the heat Of the long day, and wish 'twere done. Not till the hours of light return, All we have built do we discern.
Pagina 286 - He took the suffering human race, He read each wound, each weakness clear; And struck his finger on the place, And said: Thou ailest here, and here!
Pagina 304 - But thou would'st not alone Be saved, my father! alone Conquer and come to thy goal, Leaving the rest in the wild.
Pagina 169 - When did music come this way? Children dear, was it yesterday? Children dear, was it yesterday (Call yet once) that she went away? Once she sate with you and me, On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, And the youngest sate on her knee. She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of a far-off bell.
Pagina 280 - O easy access to the hearer's grace When Dorian shepherds sang to Proserpine ! For she herself had trod Sicilian fields, She knew the Dorian water's gush divine, She knew each lily white which Enna yields, Each rose with blushing face; She loved the Dorian pipe, the Dorian strain.