Matthew Arnold (1822–88). The Poems of Matthew Arnold, 1840–1867. 1909.
Empedocles on Etna, and Other PoemsLines written in Kensington Gardens
I
Screen’d by deep boughs on either hand;
And at its head, to stay the eye,
Those black-crown’d, red-boled pine-trees stand.
Across the girdling city’s hum.
How green under the boughs it is!
How thick the tremulous sheep-cries come!
To take his nurse his broken toy;
Sometimes a thrush flit overhead
Deep in her unknown day’s employ.
What endless, active life is here!
What blowing daisies, fragrant grass!
An air-stirr’d forest, fresh and clear.
Where the tired angler lies, stretch’d out,
And, eased of basket and of rod,
Counts his day’s spoil, the spotted trout.
Be others happy, if they can!
But in my helpless cradle I
Was breathed on by the rural Pan.
Think often, as I hear them rave,
That peace has left the upper world,
And now keeps only in the grave.
When I, who watch them, am away,
Still all things in this glade go through
The changes of their quiet day.
The flowers close, the birds are fed,
The night comes down upon the grass,
The child sleeps warmly in his bed.
To feel, amid the city’s jar,
That there abides a peace of thine,
Man did not make, and cannot mar!
The power to feel with others give!
Calm, calm me more! nor let me die
Before I have begun to live.