Matthew Arnold

It is - last stage of all When we are frozen up within, and quite The phantom of ourselves To read more

It is - last stage of all When we are frozen up within, and quite The phantom of ourselves To hear the world applaud the hollow ghost Which blamed the living man

And see all sights from pole to pole, / And glance, and nod, and bustle by; / And never once read more

And see all sights from pole to pole, / And glance, and nod, and bustle by; / And never once possess our soul / Before we die.

But each day brings its petty dust our soon-choked souls to fill, and we forget because we must, and not read more

But each day brings its petty dust our soon-choked souls to fill, and we forget because we must, and not because we will.

What then remains, but that we still should cry
Not to be born, or being born to die.

What then remains, but that we still should cry
Not to be born, or being born to die.

Like driftwood spares which meet and pass
Upon the boundless ocean-plain,
So on the sea of life, read more

Like driftwood spares which meet and pass
Upon the boundless ocean-plain,
So on the sea of life, alas!
Man nears man, meets, and leaves again.