Matthew Arnold (1822–88). The Poems of Matthew Arnold, 1840–1867. 1909.Empedocles on Etna, and Other Poems
She is not cold, though she seems so:
She is not cold, she is not light;
But our ignoble souls lack might.
While we for hopeless passion die;
Yet she could love, those eyes declare,
Were but men nobler than they are.
Was turn’d upon the sons of men.
But light the serious visage grew—
She look’d, and smiled, and saw them through.
Our labour’d puny passion-fits—
Ah, may she scorn them still, till we
Scorn them as bitterly as she!
One of some worthier race than we;
One for whose sake she once might prove
How deeply she who scorns can love.
His voice like sounds of summer nights—
In all his lovely mien let pierce
The magic of the universe.
And gazing in his eyes will stand,
And know her friend, and weep for glee,
And cry—Long, long I’ve look’d for thee.—
Coldly she mocks the sons of men.
Till then her lovely eyes maintain
Their gay, unwavering, deep disdain.