Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/327

Rh The future and its viewless things,—

That undiscovered mystery

Which one who feels death's winnowing wings

Must needs read clearer, sure, than he!

Bring none of these; but let me be,

While all around in silence lies,

Moved to the window near, and see

Once more, before my dying eyes,—

Bathed in the sacred dews of morn

The wide aërial landscape spread,—

The world which was ere I was born,

The world which lasts when I am dead;

Which never was the friend of one,

Nor promised love it could not give,

But lit for all its generous sun,

And lived itself, and made us live.

There let me gaze, till I become

In soul, with what I gaze on, wed!

To feel the universe my home;

To have before my mind—instead

Of the sick-room, the mortal strife,

The turmoil for a little breath—

The pure eternal course of life,

Not human combatings with death!

Thus feeling, gazing, might I grow

Composed, refreshed, ennobled, clear;

Then willing let my spirit go

To work or wait elsewhere or here!