Matthew Arnold Quotes on Death
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Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew. In quiet she reposes: Ah! would that I did too.
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Her cabin'd, ample Spirit, It flutter'd and fail'd for breath. To-night it doth inherit The vasty Hall of Death.
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Truth sits upon the lips of dying men, And falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine.
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Singing, 'Here came a mortal, But faithless was she: And alone dwell for ever The kings of the sea.'
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Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease.
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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!
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The bloom is gone, and with the bloom go I.
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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 life's headlong train; - The foot less prompt to meet the morning dew, The heart less bounding at emotion new, And hope, once crush'd, less quick to spring again.
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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 Mother's train divine (And purer or more subtle soul than thee, I trow, the mighty Mother doth not see) Within a folding of the Apennine.
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Creep into thy narrow bed, Creep, and let no more be said!
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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.
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What is the course of the life Of mortal men on the earth?- Most men eddy about Here and there-eat and drink, Chatter and love and hate, Gather and squander, are raised Aloft, are hurl'd in the dust, Striving blindly, achieving Nothing; and, then they die- Perish; and no one asks Who or what they have been, More than he asks what waves In the moonlit solitudes mild Of the midmost Ocean, have swell'd, Foam'd for a moment, and gone.