Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/958

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MATTHEW ARNOLD

Mares' milk, and bread

Bak'd on the embers. all around

The boundless waving grass-plains stretch, thick-starred

With saffron and the yellow hollyhock

And flag-lcav'd iris flowers.

Sitting in his cart

He makes his meal: before him, for long miles,

Alive with bright green lizards,

And the springing bastard fowl,

The track, a straight black line,

Furrows the rich soil here and there

Clusters of lonely mounds

Topp'd with rough-hewn,

Grey, ram-blear'd statues, overpeer

The sunny Waste.

They see the Ferry On the broad, cJay-ladcn Lone Chorasmian stream thereon, With snort and strain, Two horses, strongly swimming, tow The ferry-boat, with woven ropes To either bow

Firm-harness'd by the mane a Chief, With shout and shaken spear Stands at the prow, and guides them but astern, The cowering Merchants, in long lobes, Sit pale beside their wealth Of silk-bales and of balsam-drops, Of gold and ivory, Of turquoise-earth and amethyst, Jasper and chalcedony,

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