To Marguerite: Continued

Yes! in the sea of life enisled,
With echoing straits between us thrown,
Dotting the shoreless watery wild,
We mortal millions live alone.
The islands feel the enclasping flow,
And then their endless bounds they know.

But when the moon their hollows lights,
And they are swept by balms of spring,
And in their glens, on starry nights,
The nightingales divinely sing;
And lovely notes, from shore to shore,
Across the sounds and channels pour--

Oh! then a longing like despair
Is to their farthest caverns sent;
For surely once, they feel, we were
Parts of a single continent!
Now round us spreads the watery plain--
Oh might our marges meet again!

Who order'd, that their longing's fire
Should be, as soon as kindled, cool'd?
Who renters vain their deep desire?--
A God, a God their severance ruled!
And bade betwixt their shores to be
The unplumb'd, salt, estranging sea.

by Matthew Arnold

Other poems of ARNOLD (62)

Comments (10)

I love this poem and everything I've read so far. I am a fan. I want to be inspired some more, for my poetry is hungry and starves for attention.
This poem let's us walk beside him as he visits the musician- - not only that, but the poet let's us into the sad corridors of his heart and mind. Poignant, yes. Well-written, yes. Forgettable, no.
On how time can shift you into another state, poignant and filmic
A haunting poem that touches on mental illness, not in the poet but in the musician. Very sad but extremely well written.
A music to life and the twist and turns are fantastic.
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