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Katharine Lee Bates - Matthew Arnold On Hearing Him Read His Poems In Boston
Work rating: Medium

A stranger, schooled to gentle arts,
         He stept before the curious throng;
     His path into our waiting hearts
         Already paved by song.
     Full well we knew his choristers,
         Whose plaintive voices haunt our rest,
     Those sable-vested harbingers
         Of melancholy guest.
     We smiled on him for love of these,
        With eyes that swift grew dim to scan
    Beneath the veil of courteous ease
        The faith-forsaken man.
    To his wan gaze the weary shows
        And fashions of our vain estate,
    Our shallow pain and false repose,
        Our barren love and hate,
    Are shadows in a land of graves,
        Where creeds, the bubbles of a dream,
    Flash each and fade, like melting waves
        Upon a moonlight stream.
    Yet loyal to his own despair,
        Erect beneath a darkened sky,
    He deems the austerest truth more fair
        Than any gracious lie;
    And stands, heroic, patient, sage,
        With hopeless hands that bind the sheaf,
    Claiming God`s work with His wage,
        The bard of unbelief.
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