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Life is Struggle

By Arthur Hugh Clough

Topics: classic

To wear out heart, and nerves, and brain,     And give oneself a world of pain;     Be eager, angry, fierce, and hot,     Imperious, supple God knows what,     For whats all one to have or not;     O false, unwise, absurd, and vain!     For tis not joy, it is not gain,     It is not in itself a bliss,     Only it is precisely this     That keeps us all alive.     To say we truly feel the pain,     And quite are sinking with the strain;     Entirely, simply, undeceived,     Believe, and say we neer believed     The object, een were it achieved,     A thing we eer had cared to keep;     With heart and soul to hold it cheap,     And then to go and try it again;     O false, unwise, absurd, and vain!     O, tis not joy, and tis not bliss,     Only it is precisely this     That keeps us still alive.

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Author:Arthur Hugh Clough

"To wear out heart, and nerves, and brain,..." by Arthur Hugh Clough

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Arthur Hugh Clough

About Arthur Hugh Clough

Arthur Hugh Clough (1819–1861) was an English poet whose work explores Victorian doubt and moral uncertainty. His poems "Say Not the Struggle Naught Availeth" and "The Latest Decalogue" are sharp, thoughtful, and still widely anthologized.

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"Cease, empty Faith, the Spectrum saith,     I was,..."

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