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 ordered, that their longing's fire
Should be, as soon as kindled, cooled?
Who renders vain their deep desire? --
A god, a god their severance ruled!
And bade betwixt their shores to be
The unplumbed, salt, estranging sea.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 1266 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Matthew Arnold
Poem: To Marguerite

There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, To Marguerite, has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Matthew Arnold with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!