Arthur Hugh Clough Quotes
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Grace is given of God, but knowledge is bought in the market;Knowledge needful for all, yet cannot be had for the asking.
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Say not the struggle nought availeth,The labour and the wounds are vain,The enemy faints not, nor faileth,And as things have been, things remain.
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’Twas on a sunny summer dayI trod a mighty city’s street,And when I started on my wayMy heart was full of fancies sweet;But soon, as nothing could be seen,But countenances sharp and keen,Nought heard or seen around but toldOf something bought or something sold,And none that seemed to think or careThat any save himself was there.
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Alas! the great world goes its way,And takes its truth from each new day;They do not quit, nor can retain,Far less consider it again.
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Trust me, I’ve read your German sageTo far more purpose e’er than you did;You find it in his wisest page,Whom God deludes is well deluded.
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There is a great Field-Marshal, my friend, who arrays our battalions;Let us to Providence trust, and abide and work in our stations.
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So in the sinful streets, abstracted and alone,I with my secret self held communing of mine own.
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As ships becalmed at eve, that layWith canvas drooping, side by side,Two towers of sail, at dawn of dayAre scarce, long leagues apart, descried.
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'There is no God,' the wicked saith,'And truly it’s a blessing,For what He might have done with usIt’s better only guessing.'
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O tell me, friends, while yet we part,And heart can yet be heard of heart,O tell me then, for what is itOur early plan of life we quit;From all our old intentions range,And why does all so wholly change?O tell me, friends, while yet we part!
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Hope conquers cowardice, joy grief;Or at least, faith unbelief.
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Where lies the land to which the ship would go?Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know.And where the land she travels from? Away,Far, far behind, is all that they can say.
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And almost every one when age,Disease, or sorrows strike him,Inclines to think there is a God,Or something very like Him.
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Each for himself is still the ruleWe learn it when we go to school-The devil take the hindmost, O!
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Honour thy parents; that is, allFrom whom advancement may befall:Thou shalt not kill; but need’st not striveOfficiously to keep alive.
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Our ills are worse than at their easeThese blameless happy souls suspect,They only study the disease,Alas, who live not to detect.
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I sit at my table en grand seigneur,And when I have done, throw a crust to the poor;Not only the pleasure, one’s self, of good living,But also the pleasure of now and then giving.So pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho!So pleasant it is to have money.
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A world where nothing is had for nothing.
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Come back again, old heart! Ah me!Methinks in those thy coward fearsThere might, perchance, a courage be,That fails in these the manlier years;Courage to let the courage sink,Itself a coward base to think,Rather than not for heavenly lightWait on to show the truly right.
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My wind is turned to bitter north,That was so soft a south before;My sky, that shone so sunny bright,With foggy gloom is clouded o’erMy gay green leaves are yellow-black,Upon the dank autumnal floor;For love, departed once, comes backNo more again, no more.
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Truth is a golden thread, seen here and thereIn small bright specks upon the visible sideOf our strange being’s party-coloured web.
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Thou shalt not covet, but traditionApproves all forms of competition.
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’Tis possible, young sir, that some excessMars youthful judgment and old men’s no less;Yet we must take our counsel as we mayFor (flying years this lesson still convey),’Tis worst unwisdom to be overwise,And not to use, but still correct one’s eyes.
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Put forth thy leaf, thou lofty plane,East wind and frost are safely gone;With zephyr mild and balmy rainThe summer comes serenely on;Earth, air, and sun and skies combineTo promise all that’s kind and fair:-But thou, O human heart of mine,Be still, contain thyself, and bear.