Spare me the whispering, crowded loom, / The frien — Matthew Arnold Next Make us, not fly to dreams, but moderate desire. “ Spare me the whispering, crowded loom, / The friends who come and gape and go, / The ceremonious air of gloom— / All, which makes death a hideous show. Share Share Comments (0) Log in to post a comment. No comments yet. Be the first to comment.