Ignorance

Philip Larkin

Strange to know nothing, never to be sure
Of what is true or right or real,
But forced to qualify or so I feel,
Or Well, it does seem so:
Someone must know.

Strange to be ignorant of the way things work:
Their skill at finding what they need,
Their sense of shape, and punctual spread of seed,
And willingness to change;
Yes, it is strange,

Even to wear such knowledge - for our flesh
Surrounds us with its own decisions -
And yet spend all our life on imprecisions,
That when we start to die
Have no idea why.

Next 10 Poems

• Philip Larkin : Is It For Now Or For Always
• Philip Larkin : Like The Train's Beat
• Philip Larkin : Lines On A Young Lady's Photograph Album
• Philip Larkin : Long Sight In Age
• Philip Larkin : Love Again
• Philip Larkin : Love Songs In Age
• Philip Larkin : Love, We Must Part Now
• Philip Larkin : Maiden Name
• Philip Larkin : Maturity
• Philip Larkin : Mcmxiv

Previous 10 Poems

• Philip Larkin : If Hands Could Free You, Heart
• Philip Larkin : I Remember, I Remember
• Philip Larkin : I Have Started To Say
• Philip Larkin : How Distant
• Philip Larkin : Home Is So Sad
• Philip Larkin : Homage To A Government
• Philip Larkin : High Windows
• Philip Larkin : He Hears That His Beloved Has Become Engaged
• Philip Larkin : Grief
• Philip Larkin : Going