LyricVictorian · 18675 min · 3 passagesSteady

Dover Beach

Arnold listens to the tide going out and hears the Christian faith leaving Europe with it. The only consolation left is that two people can be honest with each other.

Faith Doubt War

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The sound of the sea

Imagery

The sea is calm tonight. The tide is full, the moon lies Upon the straits; on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, and vast, out in the bay. Come to the window, sweet is the night-air! Only, from the long line of spray Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land, Listen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again begin, With tremulous cadence slow, and bring The eternal note of sadness in.

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Plain English

The sea is calm tonight. The tide is full, the moon lies over the straits; on the French coast a light gleams and goes out; the white cliffs of England stand vast and glimmering in the quiet bay. Come to the window — the night air is sweet. But listen: from the line of spray where the sea meets the moon-bleached land you hear the grinding roar of pebbles that the waves drag back and fling up the beach again, starting and stopping and starting, with a slow trembling rhythm that brings the eternal note of sadness in.

The Sea of Faith

Metaphor

The Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore Lay like the folds of a bright furled. But now I only hear Its , long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.

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Plain English

The Sea of Faith was once at full tide too, and lay around the world's shore like the folds of a bright belt. But now I only hear its sad, long, withdrawing roar, retreating on the night wind's breath, down the vast dreary edges and bare pebbles of the world.

The darkling plain

Allusion

Ah, love, let us be true To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where armies clash by night.

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Plain English

Ah, love, let us be true to one another — because the world, which looks like a land of dreams, so varied and beautiful and new, actually has no joy, no love, no light, no certainty, no peace, no help for pain. And we are here as on a dark plain swept by confused alarms of struggle and flight, where ignorant armies clash at night.

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The Street · Victorian literature

Doubt, respectability, and the noise of a city. Every answer comes with the reason and the line that proves it.

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