MATTHEW ARNOLD

For surely once, they feel, we were

Parts of a single continent. Now round us spreads the watery plain O might our marges meet again !

Who ordered that their longing's fire Should be, as soon as kindled, cooPd ?

Who renders vain their deep desire? A God, a God their severance ruled;

And bade betwixt their shores to be

The unplumb'd, salt, estranging sea.

��7?o. Refute scat

CTREW 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.

Her life was turning, turning, In mazes of heat and sound.

But for peace her soul was yearning, And now peace laps her round.

Her cabin'd, ample Spirit,

It fluttered and fail'd for breath. To-night it doth inherit

The vasty hall of Death. 89*

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