Classic and Contemporary Poetry
IN LALEHAM CHURCHYARD (THE BURIAL-PLACE OF MATTHEW ARNOLD), by WILLIAM WATSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Twas at this season, year by year Last Line: To work their will. Alternate Author Name(s): Watson, John William Subject(s): Arnold, Matthew (1822-1888); Churchyards; Poetry & Poets | ||||||||
'TWAS at this season, year by year, The singer who lies songless here Was wont to woo a less austere, Less deep repose, Where Rotha to Winandermere Unresting flows, -- Flows through a land where torrents call To far-off torrents as they fall, And mountains in their cloudy pall Keep ghostly state, And Nature makes majestical Man's lowliest fate. There, 'mid the August glow, still came He of the twice-illustrious name, The loud impertinence of fame Not loth to flee -- Not loth with brooks and fells to claim Fraternity. Linked with his happy youthful lot, Is Loughrigg, then, at last forgot? Nor silent peak nor dalesman's cot Looks on his grave. Lulled by the Thames he sleeps, and not By Rotha's wave. 'Tis fittest thus! for though with skill He sang of beck and tarn and ghyll, The deep, authentic mountain-thrill Ne'er shook his page! Somewhat of worldling mingled still With bard and sage. And 'twere less meet for him to lie Guarded by summits lone and high That traffic with the eternal sky And hear, unawed, The everlasting fingers ply The loom of God, Than, in this hamlet of the plain, A less sublime repose to gain, Where Nature, genial and urbane, To man defers, Yielding to us the right to reign, Which yet is hers. And nigh to where his bones abide, The Thames with its unruffled tide Seems like his genius typified, -- Its strength, its grace, Its lucid gleam, its sober pride, Its tranquil pace. But ah! not his the eventual fate Which doth the journeying wave await -- Doomed to resign its limpid state And quickly grow Turbid as passion, dark as hate, And wide as woe. Rather, it may be, overmuch He shunned the common stain and smutch, From soilure of ignoble touch Too grandly free, Too loftily secure in such Cold purity. But he preserved from chance control The fortress of his 'stablisht soul; In all things sought to see the Whole; Brooked no disguise; And set his heart upon the goal, Not on the prize; And with those few he shall survive Who seem not to compete or strive, Yet with the foremost still arrive, Prevailing still: The Elect with whom the stars connive To work their will. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ENVY OF OTHER PEOPLE'S POEMS by ROBERT HASS THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AS A SONG by ROBERT HASS THE FATALIST: TIME IS FILLED by LYN HEJINIAN OXOTA: A SHORT RUSSIAN NOVEL: CHAPTER 192 by LYN HEJINIAN LET ME TELL YOU WHAT A POEM BRINGS by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA JUNE JOURNALS 6/25/88 by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA FOLLOW ROZEWICZ by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA HAVING INTENDED TO MERELY PICK ON AN OIL COMPANY, THE POEM GOES AWRY by HICOK. BOB |
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