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Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, Where the winds are all asleep Where the spent lights quiver and gleam Where the salt weed sways in the stream.

Matthew Arnold

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Matthew Arnold
Age: 65 †
Born: 1822
Born: December 24
Died: 1888
Died: April 15
Journalist
Literary Critic
Poet
School Inspector
University Teacher
Writer
Laleham
Surrey
Cool
Winds
Spent
Stream
Deep
Asleep
Wind
Weed
Sways
Light
Lights
Strewn
Salt
Caverns
Streams
Quiver
Sand
Gleam

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O strong soul, by what shore Tarriest thou now? For that force, Surely, has not been left vain!
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Culture is properly described as the love of perfection it is a study of perfection.
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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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We, peopling the void air, Make Gods to whom to impute The ills we ought to bear With God and Fate to rail at, suffering easily.
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Now the great winds shoreward blow Now the salt tides seaward flow Now the wild white horses play Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
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It is almost impossible to exaggerate the proneness of the human mind to take miracles as evidence, and to seek for miracles as evidence.
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Good poetry does undoubtedly tend to form the soul and character it tends to beget a love of beauty and of truth in alliance together, it suggests, however indirectly, high and noble principles of action, and it inspires the emotion so helpful in making principles operative.
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And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, / Self-schooled, self-scanned, self-honoured, self-secure / Didst tread on earth unguessed at. Better so!.
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Nature, with equal mind, Sees all her sons at play, Sees man control the wind, The wind sweep man away.
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Mind is a light which the Gods mock us with, To lead those false who trust it.
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