...earth-forgetting eyelids keep The morningless and unawakening sleep Under the flowery oleanders pale), Hear it, O Scribner's sons I trow, the mighty Mother doth not see) Within a folding of the Apennine, Thou hearest the immortal...

...earth-forgetting eyelids keep The morningless and unawakening sleep Under the flowery oleanders pale), Hear it, O Thyrsis, still our Tree is there! Ah, vain! These...train divine (And purer or more subtle soul than thee, I trow, the mighty Mother doth not see!) Within a folding of the Apennine, Thou hearest the immortal...

...earth-forgetting eyelids keep The morningless and unawakening sleep Under the flowery oleanders pale), Hear it, O Thyrsis, still our tree is there ! — Ah, vain !...train divine (And purer or more subtle soul than thee, I trow, the mighty Mother doth not see) Within a folding of the Apennine, Thou hearest the immortal...

...Under the flowery oleanders pale), Hear it, O Thyrsis, still our tree is there ! — Ah, vain! Those - I trow, the mighty Mother doth not see) Within a folding of the Apennine, Thou hearest the immortal...

...unawakening sleep Under the flowery oleanders pale), 170 Hear it, O Thyrsis, still our Tree is there I — Ah, vain ! These English fields, this upland dim,...not for him. To a boon southern country he is fled, 175 And now in happier air. Wandering with the great Mother's train divine (And purer or more subtle...

...earth-forgetting eyelids keep The morningless and unawakening sleep Under the flowery oleanders pale), Hear it, O Thyrsis, still our tree is there! — Ah, vain! These...train divine (And purer or more subtle soul than thee, I trow, the mighty Mother doth not see) Within a folding of the Apennine, here Sole in these fields!...

...happier air, Wandering with the great Mother's train divine (And purer or more subtle soul than thee, I fond and wayward thoughts will slide Into a Lover's head! "0 Apennine, here Sole in these fields! yet will I not despair. Despair I will not, while I yet descry...

...writing of the death of his dear friend, the poet, Arthur Hugh Clough, who died in Italy,2 he says : And now in happier air, Wandering with the great Mother's train divine . . . Within a folding of the Apennine, Thou hearest the immortal chants of old ! Putting his sickle...

...eventually leads Arnold to the elm that was the favorite goal of his walks with Clough; he exclaims . . . O Thyrsis, still our tree is there! — Ah, vain! These...engarlanded. That lone, sky-pointing tree, are not for him . . .51 Arnold pictures his friend not in any Christian afterlife, but with Demeter, the ancient earth...

...earth-forgetting eyelids keep The morningless and unawakening sleep Under the flowery oleanders pale), Hear it, O Thyrsis, still our tree is there ! — Ah, vain! These...train divine (And purer or more subtle soul than thee, I trow, the mighty Mother doth not see) Within a folding of the Appenine, Thou hearest the immortal...