Poem by Matthew Arnold

Too Late

Each on his own strict line we move,
And some find death ere they find love;
So far apart their lives are thrown
From the twin soul which halves their own.

And sometimes, by harder fate,
The lovers meet, but meet too late.
- Thy heart is mine! - True, true! ah, true!
- Then, love, thy hand! - Ah no! adieu! 

1. Written in Butler’s Sermons
2. Religious Isolation
3. Written in Emerson’s Essays
4. To the Duke of Wellington
5. “In Harmony with Nature”

Emily Dickinson Too Late ("Delayed till she had ceased to know")

Print

1977 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version