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Matthew Arnold's Poetry, by popularity

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  • When I shall be divorced, some ten years hence,
    From this poor present self which I am now;
    16 lines
  • Before man parted for this earthly strand,
    While yet upon the verge of heaven he stood,
    23 lines
  • In front the awful Alpine track
          Crawls up its rocky stair;
    447 lines
  •   _He saves the sheep, the goats he doth not save._
      So rang Tertullian's sentence, on the side
    16 lines
  • That son of Italy  who tried to blow,
    Ere Dante  came, the trump of sacred song,
    16 lines
  • What, Kaiser dead? The heavy news
    Post-haste to Cobham  calls the Muse,
    96 lines
  • Four years!--and didst thou stay above
    The ground, which hides thee now, but four?
    98 lines
  • One morn as through Hyde Park  we walk'd,
    My friend and I, by chance we talk'd
    219 lines
  • What mortal, when he saw,
    Life's voyage done, his heavenly Friend,
    33 lines
  • Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man,
        How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler fare!
    13 lines, 1 comment
  • As the kindling glances,
    Queen-like and clear,
    40 lines
  • Was it a dream? We sail'd, I thought we sail'd,
    Martin and I, down the green Alpine stream,
    36 lines
  • A wanderer is man from his birth.
    He was born in a ship
    87 lines
  • God knows it, I am with you. If to prize
    Those virtues, priz'd and practis'd by too few,
    14 lines
  • And you, ye stars,
    Who slowly begin to marshal,
    25 lines
  • Who prop, thou ask'st in these bad days, my mind?--
    He much, the old man, who, clearest-souled of men,
    14 lines
  • IN THIS fair stranger’s eyes of grey
    Thine eyes, my love, I see.
    23 lines
  • Creep into thy narrow bed,
    Creep, and let no more be said!
    16 lines
  • Crouch'd on the pavement close by Belgrave Square
    A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue-tied;
    14 lines
  • In his cool hall, with haggard eyes,
    The Roman noble lay;
    44 lines, 1 comment
  • I
    THE CASTLE
    205 lines
  • In the deserted, moon-blanched street,
            How lonely rings the echo of my feet!
    98 lines
  •   Thou, who dost dwell alone;
      Thou, who dost know thine own;
    67 lines
  • How changed is here each spot man makes or fills!
    In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same;
    240 lines
  • Even in a palace, life may be led well!
    So spake the imperial sage, purest of men,
    14 lines
  • Saint Brandan sails the northern main;
    The brotherhood of saints are glad.
    76 lines
  • Faster, faster,
    O Circe, Goddess,
    307 lines
  • Coldly, sadly descends
    The autumn-evening. The field
    208 lines
  • 'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead
    Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green,
    14 lines
  • Yes! in the sea of life enisled,
    With echoing straits between us thrown,
    24 lines
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