The Poems and Prose Remains of Arthur Hugh Clough: With a Selection from His Letters and a Memoir, Volume 1

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Macmillan, 1869 - 514 pages
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Page 274 - And they said one to another, We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he besought us, and we would not hear; therefore is this distress come upon us.
Page 373 - And so she sings her fill, Singing most joyfully, Till the spindle drops from her hand, And the whizzing wheel stands still. She steals to the window, and looks at the sand, And over the sand at the sea; And her eyes are set in a stare...
Page 372 - The Forsaken Merman Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below. Now my brothers call from the bay; Now the great winds shoreward blow; Now the salt tides seaward flow; Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. Children dear, let us away. This way, this way. Call her once before you go. Call once yet. In a voice that she will know...
Page 318 - Still roll ; where all the aspects of misery Predominate; whose strong effects are such As he must bear, being powerless to redress; And that unless above himself he can Erect himself, how poor a thing is man...
Page 390 - tis true I have gone here and there And made myself a motley to the view, Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new.
Page 321 - Through busiest street and loneliest glen Are felt the flashes of his pen : He rules mid winter snows, and when Bees fill their hives : Deep in the general heart of men His power survives.
Page 14 - Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds, At last he beat his music out. There lives more faith in honest doubt, Believe me, than in half the creeds.
Page 388 - And I gave my heart to seek and search out by wisdom concerning all things that are done under heaven: this sore travail hath God given to the sons of man to be exercised therewith.
Page 373 - On the blanch'd sands a gloom; Up the still, glistening beaches, Up the creeks we will hie, Over banks of bright seaweed The ebb-tide leaves dry. We will gaze, from the sand-hills, At the white, sleeping town; At the church on the hill-side — And then come back down. Singing: "There dwells a loved one, But cruel is she ! She left lonely for ever The kings of the sea.
Page 379 - The bridegroom sea Is toying with the shore, his wedded bride, And, in the fulness of his marriage joy, He decorates her tawny brow with shells, Retires a space, to see how fair she looks, Then proud runs up to kiss her.

About the author (1869)

Arthur Hugh Clough was born on the first day of 1819 to James and Ann Clough in Liverpool, England. A poet who studied at Rugby and Oxford, Clough had radical political and religious beliefs. After going to France to support the revolution of 1848, Clough traveled to the United States hoping to obtain a position at Harvard. When that did not work out, Clough returned home and married Blanch Smith. Soon after, Clough spent much of his time helping his wife's cousin, Florence Nightingale, lobby for reform in hospitals and in the nursing profession. Throughout the 1850s, Clough worked on a translation of Plutarch's Lives and a large poem, Mari Magno. Clough died in Florence, Italy, on November 13, 1861, at the age of 42.

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