Worldly Place
Matthew Arnold
Even in a palace, life may be led well! So spake the imperial sage, purest of men, Marcus Aurelius. But the stifling den Of common life, where, crowded up pell-mell, Our freedom for a little bread we sell, And drudge under some foolish master's ken Who rates us if we peer outside our pen-- Match'd with a palace, is not this a hell? Even in a palace! On his truth sincere, Who spoke these words, no shadow ever came; And when my ill-school'd spirit is aflame Some nobler, ampler stage of life to win, I'll stop, and say: "There were no succour here! The aids to noble life are all within."
Next 10 Poems
- Matthew Arnold : Youth And Calm
- Richard Harris Barham : A Lay Of St. Gengulphus
- Richard Harris Barham : A Lay Of St. Nicholas
- Richard Harris Barham : Bagman's Dog, The : Mr. Peters's Story
- Richard Harris Barham : Black Mousquetaire, The : A Legend Of France
- Richard Harris Barham : Cynotaph, The
- Richard Harris Barham : Execution, The : A Sporting Anecdote Hon. Mr. Sucklethumbkin's Story
- Richard Harris Barham : Ghost, The
- Richard Harris Barham : Hand Of Glory, The : The Nurse's Story
- Richard Harris Barham : Jackaw Of Rheims, The
Previous 10 Poems
- Matthew Arnold : West London
- Matthew Arnold : Voice, The
- Matthew Arnold : To Marguriet: Continued
- Matthew Arnold : To Marguerite
- Matthew Arnold : To A Republican Friend
- Matthew Arnold : To A Friend
- Matthew Arnold : Thyrsis A Monody
- Matthew Arnold : The Voice
- Matthew Arnold : The Strayed Reveller
- Matthew Arnold : The Song Of Empedocles