Matthew Arnold: Все стихи поэта

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Cadmus and Harmonia

Far, far from here,

The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay

Among the green Illyrian hills; and there

The sunshine in the happy glens is fair,

And by the sea, and in the brakes.

The grass is cool, the sea-side air

Buoyant and fresh, the mountain flowers

More virginal and sweet than ours.

by Matthew Arnold

Longing

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,

A messenger from radiant climes,

And smile on thy new world, and be

As kind to others as to me!

by Matthew Arnold

The Song of Callicles

THROUGH the black, rushing smoke-bursts,

Thick breaks the red flame.

All Etna heaves fiercely

Her forest-clothed frame.

Not here, O Apollo!

Are haunts meet for thee.

But, where Helicon breaks down

by Matthew Arnold

Growing Old

What is it to grow old?

Is it to lose the glory of the form,

The lustre of the eye?

Is it for beauty to forego her wreath?

Yes, but not for this alone.

Is it to feel our strength -

Not our bloom only, but our strength -decay?

Is it to feel each limb

by Matthew Arnold

The Scholar-Gypsy

Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill;

Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes!

No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed,

Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their throats,

Nor the cropp'd herbage shoot another head.

But when the fields are still,

And the tired men and dogs all gone to rest,

And only the white sheep are sometimes seen

by Matthew Arnold

Youth and Calm

'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here,

And ease from shame, and rest from fear.

There's nothing can dismarble now

The smoothness of that limpid brow.

But is a calm like this, in truth,

The crowning end of life and youth,

And when this boon rewards the dead,

Are all debts paid, has all been said?

by Matthew Arnold

Palladium

Set where the upper streams of Simois flow

Was the Palladium, high 'mid rock and wood;

And Hector was in Ilium, far below,

And fought, and saw it not—but there it stood!

It stood, and sun and moonshine rain'd their light

On the pure columns of its glen-built hall.

Backward and forward roll'd the waves of fight

Round Troy—but while this stood, Troy could not fall.

by Matthew Arnold

Philomela

Hark! ah, the nightingale—

The tawny-throated!

Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst!

What triumph! hark!—what pain!

O wanderer from a Grecian shore,

Still, after many years, in distant lands,

Still nourishing in thy bewilder'd brain

That wild, unquench'd, deep-sunken, old-world pain—

by Matthew Arnold

Bacchanalia or The New Age

The evening comes, the fields are still.

The tinkle of the thirsty rill,

Unheard all day, ascends again;

Deserted is the half-mown plain,

Silent the swaths! the ringing wain,

The mower's cry, the dog's alarms,

All housed within the sleeping farms!

by Matthew Arnold

Requiescat

Strew on her roses, roses,

And never a spray of yew!

In quiet she reposes;

Ah, would that I did too!

Her mirth the world required;

She bathed it in smiles of glee.

But her heart was tired, tired,

And now they let her be.

by Matthew Arnold

Lines Written in Kensington Gardens

In this lone, open glade I lie,

Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand;

And at its end, to stay the eye,

Those black-crown'd, red-boled pine-trees stand!

Birds here make song, each bird has his,

Across the girdling city's hum.

How green under the boughs it is!

How thick the tremulous sheep-cries come!

by Matthew Arnold

Mycerinus

"Not by the justice that my father spurn'd,

Not for the thousands whom my father slew,

Altars unfed and temples overturn'd,

Cold hearts and thankless tongues, where thanks are due;

Fell this dread voice from lips that cannot lie,

Stern sentence of the Powers of Destiny.

"I will unfold my sentence and my crime.

My crime—that, rapt in reverential awe,

by Matthew Arnold