Arthur Hugh Clough
In a Lecture Room
Away, haunt thou me not,
Thou vain Philosophy!
Little hast thou bestead,
Save to perplex the head,
And leave the spirit dead.
Unto thy broken cisterns wherefore go,
While from the secret treasure-depths below,
Fed by the skyey shower,
And clouds that sink and rest on hilltops high,
Wisdom at once, and Power,
Are welling, bubbling forth, unseen, incessantly?
Why labor at the dull mechanic oar,
When the fresh breeze is blowing,
And the strong current flowing,
Right onward to the Eternal Shore?
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Comments about this poem (In a Lecture Room by Arthur Hugh Clough )
- In Living Memory (11-22-63), John F. McCullagh
- Music, Fatima Nusairat
- what swanky sap is this?, Mandolyn ...
- Natural, David Chap Bottoms
- I end poem, hasmukh amathalal
- here's my armadillo, now get me a pillow.., Mandolyn ...
- A, Vera Sidhwa
- With her ability, hasmukh amathalal
- Inhuman way, hasmukh amathalal
- THERE IS…, michael walkerjohn
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