Mist clogs the sunshine. <br />Smoky dwarf houses <br />Hem me round everywhere; <br />A vague dejection <br />Weighs down my soul. <br /> <br />Yet, while I languish, <br />Everywhere countless <br />Prospects unroll themselves, <br />And countless beings <br />Pass countless moods. <br /> <br />Far hence, in Asia, <br />On the smooth convent-roofs, <br />On the gilt terraces, <br />Of holy Lassa, <br />Bright shines the sun. <br /> <br />Grey time-worn marbles <br />Hold the pure Muses; <br />In their cool gallery, <br />By yellow Tiber, <br />They still look fair. <br /> <br />Strange unloved uproar <br />Shrills round their portal; <br />Yet not on Helicon <br />Kept they more cloudless <br />Their noble calm. <br /> <br />Through sun-proof alleys <br />In a lone, sand-hemm'd <br />City of Africa, <br />A blind, led beggar, <br />Age-bow'd, asks alms. <br /> <br />No bolder robber <br />Erst abode ambush'd <br />Deep in the sandy waste; <br />No clearer eyesight <br />Spied prey afar. <br /> <br />Saharan sand-winds <br />Sear'd his keen eyeballs; <br />Spent is the spoil he won. <br />For him the present <br />Holds only pain. <br /> <br />Two young, fair lovers, <br />Where the warm June-wind, <br />Fresh from the summer fields <br />Plays fondly round them, <br />Stand, tranced in joy. <br /> <br />With sweet, join'd voices, <br />And with eyes brimming: <br />'Ah,' they cry, 'Destiny, <br />Prolong the present! <br />Time, stand still here!' <br /> <br />The prompt stern Goddess <br />Shakes her head, frowning; <br />Time gives his hour-glass <br />Its due reversal; <br />Their hour is gone. <br /> <br />With weak indulgence <br />Did the just Goddess <br />Lengthen their happiness, <br />She lengthen'd also <br />Distress elsewhere. <br /> <br />The hour, whose happy <br />Unalloy'd moments <br />I would eternalise, <br />Ten thousand mourners <br />Well pleased see end. <br /> <br />The bleak, stern hour, <br />Whose severe moments <br />I would annihilate, <br />Is pass'd by others <br />In warmth, light, joy. <br /> <br />Time, so complain'd of, <br />Who to no one man <br />Shows partiality, <br />Brings round to all men <br />Some undimm'd hours.<br /><br />Matthew Arnold<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/consolation-3/
