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? 

Added: Mar 30 2005 | Viewed: 443 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Arthur Hugh Clough
Poem: In a Lecture Room

There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, In a Lecture Room, has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Arthur Hugh Clough with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!