Explore "Faded Leaves" by Matthew Arnold on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The River / Still glides the stream, slow drops the boat / Under the rustling poplars' shade; / Silent the swans beside us float: / None speaks, none heeds -- ah, turn thy head.
Let those arch eyes now softly shine, / That mocking mouth grow sweetly bland: / Ah, let them rest, those eyes, on mine; / On mine let rest that lovely hand.