Explore "To Fausta" by Matthew Arnold on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Joy comes and goes: hope ebbs and flows, / Like the wave.
Change doth unknit the tranquil strength of men.
Love lends life a little grace, / A few sad smiles: and then, / Both are laid in one cold place, / In the grave.
Dreams dawn and fly: friends smile and die, / Like spring flowers.
Our vaunted life is one long funeral.
Men dig graves, with bitter tears, / For their dead hopes; and all, / Maz'd with doubts, and sick with fears, / Count the hours.
We count the hours: these dreams of ours, / False and hollow, / Shall we go hence and find they are not dead?
Joys we dimly apprehend, / Faces that smil'd and fled, / Hopes born here, and born to end, / Shall we follow?