Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/434

396 There thou art gone, and me thou leavest here

Sole in these fields! yet will I not despair.

Despair I will not, while I yet descry

'Neath the soft canopy of English air

That lonely tree against the western sky.

Still, still these slopes, 'tis clear,

Our Gypsy-Scholar haunts, outliving thee!

Fields where soft sheep from cages pull the hay,

Woods with anemones in flower till May,

Know him a wanderer still; then why not me?

A fugitive and gracious light he seeks,

Shy to illumine; and I seek it too.

This does not come with houses or with gold,

With place, with honor, and a flattering crew;

'Tis not in the world's market bought and sold;

But the smooth-slipping weeks

Drop by, and leave its seeker still untired;

Out of the heed of mortals he is gone,

He wends unfollowed, he must house alone;

Yet on he fares, by his own heart inspired.

Thou too, O Thyrsis, on like quest wast bound!

Thou wanderedst with me for a little hour.

Men gave thee nothing; but this happy quest,

If men esteemed thee feeble, gave thee power,

If men procured thee trouble, gave thee rest.

And this rude Cumner ground,

Its fir-topped Hurst, its farms, its quiet fields,

Here cam'st thou in thy jocund youthful time,

Here was thine height of strength, thy golden prime!

And still the haunt beloved a virtue yields.