Matthew Arnold Quotes

O strong soul, by what shore Tarriest thou now? For that force, Surely, has not been left vain!

Matthew Arnold

Coldly, sadly descends The autumn evening. The Field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of witherd leaves, and the elms, Fade into dimness apace, Silent;hardly a shout From a few boys late at their play!

Matthew Arnold

Charge once more, then, and be dumb! Let the victors, when they come, When the forts of folly fall, Find thy body by the wall.

Matthew Arnold

Let the long contention cease! Geese are swans, and swans are geese.

Matthew Arnold

Creep into thy narrow bed, Creep, and let no more be said!

Matthew Arnold

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.

Matthew Arnold

The sea of faith Was once, too, at the full, and round earths shore Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled. But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.

Matthew Arnold

The sea is calm tonight. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits;on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

Matthew Arnold

Hear it, O Thyrsis, still our tree is there! Ah, vain! These English fields, this upland dim, These brambles pale with mist engarlanded, That lone, sky-pointing tree, are not for him; To a boon southern country he is fled, And now in happier air, Wandering with the great Mothers train divine (And purer or more subtle soul than thee, I trow, the mighty Mother doth not see) Within a folding of the Apennine.

Matthew Arnold

Yes, thou art gone! and round me too the night In ever-nearing circle weaves her shade. I see her veil draw soft across the day, I feel her slowly chilling breath invade The cheek grown thin, the brown hair sprent with grey; I feel her finger light Laid pausefully upon lifes headlong train; The foot less prompt to meet the morning dew, The heart less bounding at emotion new, And hope, once crushd, less quick to spring again.

Matthew Arnold

The bloom is gone, and with the bloom go I.

Matthew Arnold

He went; his piping took a troubled sound Of storms that rage outside our happy ground; He could not wait their passing, he is dead!

Matthew Arnold

And that sweet city with her dreaming spires, She needs not June for beautys heightening.

Matthew Arnold

Are ye too changed, ye hills? See, tis no foot of unfamiliar men> Tonight from Oxford up your pathway strays! Here came I often, often, in old days; Thyrsis and I; we still had Thyrsis then.

Matthew Arnold

The great apostle of the Philistines, Lord Macaulay.

Matthew Arnold

On the breast of that huge Mississippi of falsehood called History, a foam-bell more or less is no consequence.

Matthew Arnold
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