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?
Arthur Hugh Clough
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/perch-pensa-pensando-s-invecchia/
