LYRIC POEMS

By Matthew Arnold

Again I see my bliss at hand,

The town, the lake are here;

My Marguerite smiles upon the strand,

Unalter'd with the year.

I know that graceful figure fair,

That cheek of languid hue;

I know that soft, enkerchief'd hair,

And those sweet eyes of blue.

Again I spring to make my choice;

Again in tones of ire

I hear a God's tremendous voice:

“Be counsell'd, and retire.”

Ye guiding Powers who join and part,

What would ye have with me?

Ah, warn some more ambitious heart,

And let the peaceful be!