And then they land, and thou art seen no more.
Maidens who from the distant hamlets come
To dance around the Fyfield elm in May,
Oft through the darkening fields have seen thee roam,
Or cross a stile into the public way.
Oft thou hast given them store
Of flowers—the frail-leaf’d, white anemone—
Dark bluebells drench’d with dews of summer eves,
And purple orchises with spotted leaves—
But none has words she can report of thee.
Matthew Arnold – The Scholar Gypsy
Boadicea's Chariot 
Good guy, Arnold.
Appreciated.
Interesting, Claire, but I am puzzled. Who is ‘thou’?
This is from The Scholar Gipsy, an elegy which was dedicated to a lifelong friend of Matthew Arnold. I love this poem because it is pastoral, elegiac and it also evokes the great Wordsworthian tradition of revering nature. It has a huge weight of literary and classical heritage running right through it, so you are right to question what that is all about. But I think that it can be enjoyed regardless of that because of its mysteriousness and beauty.
http://www.blupete.com/Literature/Poetry/ArnoldScholarGipsy.htm
Trailing in the cool stream thy fingers wet,
As the slow punt swings round;
And leaning backwards in a pensive dream,
And fostering in thy lap a heap of flowers
Pluck’d in shy fields and distant Wychwood bowers,
And thine eyes resting on the moonlit stream.
Ah, bliss! Thank you Claire.
Glad you like it. I am trying to reduce the poetry posts, but some of it is just too nice to stay in a dusty book.
Why reduce them? More like this one please.