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In the Depths
- IT is not sweet content, be sure,
- That moves the nobler Muse to song,
- Yet when could truth come whole and pure
- From hearts that inly writhe with wrong?
- 'T is not the calm and peaceful breast
- That sees or reads the problem true;
- They only know, on whom 't has prest
- Too hard to hope to solve it too.
- Our ills are worse than at their ease
- These blameless happy souls suspect,
- They only study the disease,
- Alas, who live not to detect.
- Arthur Hugh Clough
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