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Matthew Arnold – from To Margeurite

Yes in the sea of life en-isled,
With echoing straits between us thrown
Dotting the shoreless watery wild
We mortal millions live alone.
The islands feel the enclasping flow
And then their endless bounds they know

But when the moon their hollow lights
And they are swept by balms of spring
And in their glens, on starry nights
The nightingales divinely sing
And lively notes, from shore to shore
Across the sounds and channels pour

 Oh then a longing like despair
Is to their farthest caverns sent,
For surely once, they feel, they were
Parts of a single continent.
Now round us spreads the watery plain
Oh might our marges meet again.

Who ordered that their longing's fire
Should be, as soon as kindled, cooled?
Who renders vain their deep desire?
A God, a God their severance ruled
And bade betwixt their shores to be
The unplumbed, salt estranging sea