Matthew Arnold

If Paris that brief flight allow,
My humble tomb explore!
It bears: "Eternity, be thou
read more

If Paris that brief flight allow,
My humble tomb explore!
It bears: "Eternity, be thou
My refuge!" and no more.

On one she smiles, and he was blest;
She smiles elsewhere--we make a din!
But 'twas not read more

On one she smiles, and he was blest;
She smiles elsewhere--we make a din!
But 'twas not love which heaved her breast,
Fair child!--it was the bliss within.

Six years--six little years--six drops of time.

Six years--six little years--six drops of time.

I must not say that she was true,
Yet let me say that she was fair;
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I must not say that she was true,
Yet let me say that she was fair;
And they, that lovely face who view,
They should not ask if truth be there.

The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light.

The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light.