Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/224

186 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.

this fair stranger's eyes of gray,

Thine eyes, my love! I see.

I shiver; for the passing day

Had borne me far from thee.

This is the curse of life! that not

A nobler, calmer train

Of wiser thoughts and feelings blot

Our passions from our brain;

But each day brings its petty dust,

Our soon-choked souls to fill;

And we forget because we must,

And not because we will.

I struggle towards the light; and ye,

Once-longed-for storms of love!

If with the light ye cannot be,

I bear that ye remove.