For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light;… — Arthur Hugh Clough Copy Share Image
Rome, believe me, my friend, is like its own Monte Testaceo, Merelya marvellous mass of broken and castaway wine-pots. — Arthur Hugh Clough Copy Share Image
Old things need not be therefore true, O brother men, nor yet the new; Ah! still awhile the old thought retain, And yet consider… — Arthur Hugh Clough Copy Share Image
I watched them from the window, thy children at their play, And I thought of all my own dear friends, who were far, oh,… — Arthur Hugh Clough Copy Share Image
I sit at my table en grand seigneur , And when I have done, throw a crust to the poor; Not only the pleasure,… — Arthur Hugh Clough Copy Share Image
Thou shalt not covet; but tradition approves all forms of competition. — Arthur Hugh Clough Copy Share Image
Whither depart the souls of the brave that die in the battle, Die in the lost, lost fight, for the cause that perishes with… — Arthur Hugh Clough Copy Share Image
Say not the struggle nought availeth, The labour and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not, nor faileth, And as things have been,… — Arthur Hugh Clough Copy Share Image
Thou shalt not steal; an empty feat, When its so lucrative to cheat — Arthur Hugh Clough Copy Share Image
Come back again, old heart! Ah me! Methinks in those thy coward fears There might, perchance, a courage be, That fails in these the… — Arthur Hugh Clough Copy Share Image
And almost everyone when age, disease, or sorrows strike him, inclines to think there is a God, or something very like him. — Arthur Hugh Clough Copy Share Image
