Читать книгу Poems of Arthur Hugh Clough - Arthur Hugh Clough - Страница 60

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To spend uncounted years of pain,

Again, again, and yet again,

In working out in heart and brain

The problem of our being here;

To gather facts from far and near,

Upon the mind to hold them clear,

And, knowing more may yet appear,

Unto one’s latest breath to fear,

The premature result to draw—

Is this the object, end and law,

And purpose of our being here?