Explore "Euphrosyne" by Matthew Arnold on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I must not say that thou wert true, / Yet let me say that thou wert fair.
And they that lovely face who view, / They will not ask if truth be there.
Truth -- what is truth? Two bleeding hearts / Wounded by men, by Fortune tried, / Outwearied with their lonely parts, / Vow to beat henceforth side by side.
The world to them was stern and drear; / Their lot was but to weep and moan.
Ah, let them keep their faith sincere, / For neither could subsist alone!
But souls whom some benignant breath / Hath charm'd at birth from gloom and care, / These ask no love -- these plight no faith, / For they are happy as they are.
The world to them may homage make, / And garlands for their forehead weave.
And what the world can give, they take: / But they bring more than they receive.
They shine upon the world: Their ears / To one demand alone are coy.
They will not give us love and tears --
They bring us light, and warmth, and joy.
It was not love that heav'd thy breast, / Fair child! it was the bliss within.
Adieu! and say that one, at least, / Was just to what he did not win.