To Spend Uncounted Years Of Pain

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
Until one’s latest breath to fear
The premature result to draw—
Is this the object, end, and law,
And purpose of our being here?

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Previous 10 Poems

• Arthur Hugh Clough : Through A Glass Darkly
• Arthur Hugh Clough : There Is No God, The Wicked Sayeth
• Arthur Hugh Clough : The Thread Of Truth
• Arthur Hugh Clough : The Last Decalogue
• Arthur Hugh Clough : Say Not The Struggle Nought Availeth
• Arthur Hugh Clough : Say Not The Struggle Naught Availeth
• Arthur Hugh Clough : Qua Cursum Ventus
• Arthur Hugh Clough : Perche Pensa? Pensando S'invecchia
• Arthur Hugh Clough : Noli Aemulari
• Arthur Hugh Clough : In The Depths