Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/222

184 The gentleness too rudely hurled

On this wild earth of hate and fear;

The thirst for peace, a raving world

Would never let us satiate here.

were apart: yet, day by day,

I bade my heart more constant be.

I bade it keep the world away,

And grow a home for only thee;

Nor feared but thy love likewise grew,

Like mine, each day, more tried, more true.

The fault was grave! I might have known,

What far too soon, alas! I learned,—

The heart can bind itself alone,

And faith may oft be unreturned.

Self-swayed our feelings ebb and swell.

Thou lov'st no more. Farewell! Farewell!

Farewell!—And thou, thou lonely heart,

Which never yet without remorse

Even for a moment didst depart

From thy remote and spherèd course

To haunt the place where passions reign,—

Back to thy solitude again!

Back! with the conscious thrill of shame

Which Luna felt, that summer-night,

Flash through her pure immortal frame,

When she forsook the starry height

To hang o'er Endymion's sleep

Upon the pine-grown Latmian steep.