Arthur Hugh Clough (1 January 1819 – 13 November 1861 / Liverpool)
In the Depths
It is not sweet content, be sure,
That moves the nobler Muse to song,
Yet when could truth come whole and pure
From hearts that inly writhe with wrong?
'T is not the calm and peaceful breast
That sees or reads the problem true;
They only know, on whom 't has prest
Too hard to hope to solve it too.
Our ills are worse than at their ease
These blameless happy souls suspect,
They only study the disease,
Alas, who live not to detect.
Poet Other Poems
- Across the Sea Along the Shore
- Ah! Yet Consider it Again!
- All Is Well
- Amours de Voyage, Canto I
- Amours de Voyage, Canto II
- Amours de Voyage, Canto III
- Amours de Voyage, Canto IV
- Amours de Voyage, Canto V
- Elegiac I.
- Elegiac II.
- How In All Wonder...
- In a Lecture Room
- In a London Square
- In the Depths
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.