Perche Pensa? Pensando S'invecchia

Arthur Hugh Clough

To spend uncounted years of pain,
Again, again, and yet again,
In working out in heart and brain
     The problem of our being here;
To gather facts from far and near,
Upon the mind to hold them clear,
And, knowing more may yet appear,
Unto one’s latest breath to fear
The premature result to draw—
Is this the object, end and law,
     And purpose of our being here?

Next 10 Poems

• Arthur Hugh Clough : Qua Cursum Ventus
• Arthur Hugh Clough : Say Not The Struggle Naught Availeth
• Arthur Hugh Clough : Say Not The Struggle Nought Availeth
• Arthur Hugh Clough : The Last Decalogue
• Arthur Hugh Clough : The Thread Of Truth
• Arthur Hugh Clough : There Is No God, The Wicked Sayeth
• Arthur Hugh Clough : Through A Glass Darkly
• Arthur Hugh Clough : To Spend Uncounted Years Of Pain
• Arthur Hugh Clough : Where Lies The Land To Which The Ship Would Go
• Arthur Hugh Clough : With Whom Is No Variableness, Neither Shadow Of Turning

Previous 10 Poems

• Arthur Hugh Clough : Noli Aemulari
• Arthur Hugh Clough : In The Depths
• Arthur Hugh Clough : In A London Square
• Arthur Hugh Clough : In A Lecture Room
• Arthur Hugh Clough : How In All Wonder...
• Arthur Hugh Clough : How In All Wonder Columbus Got Over
• Arthur Hugh Clough : All Is Well
• Arthur Hugh Clough : Ah! Yet Consider It Again!
• Arthur Hugh Clough : Across The Sea Along The Shore
• John Clare : Wood Rides