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O tell me, friends, while yet we part,
And heart can yet be heard of heart,
O tell me then, for what is it
Our early plan of life we quit;
From all our old intentions range,
And why does all so wholly change?
O tell me, friends, while yet we part!
O tell me, friends, while yet we part,—
The rays that from the centre start
Within the orb of one warm sun,
Unless I err, have once begun,—
Why is it thus they still diverge?
And whither tends the course they urge?
O tell me, friends, while yet we part!
O tell me, friends, while yet ye hear,—
May it not be, some coming year,
These ancient paths that here divide
Shall yet again run side by side,
And you from there, and I from here,
All on a sudden reappear?
O tell me, friends, while yet ye hear!
O tell me, friends, ye hardly hear,—
And if indeed ye did, I fear
Ye would not say, ye would not speak,—
Are you so strong, am I so weak,
And yet, how much so e’er I yearn,
Can I not follow, nor you turn?
O tell me, friends, ye hardly hear!
O tell me, friends, ere words are o’er!
There’s something in me sad and sore
Repines, and underneath my eyes
I feel a somewhat that would rise,—
O tell me, O my friends, and you,
Do you feel nothing like it too?
O tell me, friends, ere words are o’er!
O tell me, friends that are no more,
Do you, too, think ere it is o’er
Old times shall yet come round as erst,
And we be friends, as we were first?
Or do you judge that all is vain,
Except that rule that none complain?
O tell me, friends that are no more!
Arthur Hugh Clough’s Parting is a poignant meditation on separation, existential uncertainty, and the fragility of human connection. Written during a period of profound cultural and intellectual upheaval in mid-19th century England, the poem captures the Victorian tension between faith in progress and anxiety over irreversible change. Through its iterative structure, metaphorical richness, and emotional immediacy, Parting transcends its historical moment to probe universal questions about the inevitability of divergence in human relationships and the longing for reconciliation.
Clough’s work emerged against the backdrop of Victorian England’s crisis of faith, shaped by challenges to religious orthodoxy, industrialization, and evolving social norms. The poem’s preoccupation with fractured paths and unanswered questions mirrors the era’s broader disillusionment with rigid institutions-a theme Clough explored in works like Dipsychus and Amours de Voyage34. His resignation from Oxford due to religious doubts and subsequent wanderings across Europe and America informed his sensitivity to transience and estrangement412. Parting reflects this biographical restlessness, framing separation not merely as personal loss but as a metaphysical condition of modernity.
The poem’s iterative pleas-“O tell me, friends, while yet we part”-evoke the Victorian struggle to reconcile communal bonds with individual autonomy. As industrialization eroded traditional social structures, Clough’s speaker grapples with the dissonance between collective “early plans” and the isolating forces of change28. This tension resonates with Matthew Arnold’s contemporaneous elegies, which similarly lament the “darkling plain” of existential uncertainty7.
Clough eschews formal rhyme schemes, opting instead for a cyclical structure that amplifies the poem’s emotional urgency. Each stanza opens with a variation of the imperative “O tell me, friends,” creating a refrain that mirrors the speaker’s desperate search for clarity. The repetition evolves from hopeful inquiry (“while yet we part”) to resigned acknowledgment of silence (“friends that are no more”), charting a descent from vulnerability to despair612.
Central to the poem is the metaphor of diverging rays from a “warm sun” (stanza 2), symbolizing the fragmentation of shared purpose. The image recalls Clough’s earlier use of celestial imagery in The Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich, where stars represent fleeting human connections4. Here, the rays’ irreversible divergence underscores the inevitability of change, even as the speaker clings to the possibility of reunion: “Shall yet again run side by side” (stanza 3). This duality-hope tempered by skepticism-reflects Clough’s characteristic ambivalence, described by critic Joseph Salemi as “the disappointed rage of a wounded liberal conscience”9.
The poem’s emotional crescendo builds through tactile imagery: “something in me sad and sore / Repines, and underneath my eyes / I feel a somewhat that would rise” (stanza 5). This physical manifestation of grief contrasts with the abstract questioning of earlier stanzas, grounding the speaker’s existential angst in bodily experience. The shift from metaphysical inquiry to visceral emotion mirrors Clough’s broader poetic trajectory, which often oscillates between intellectual debate and raw vulnerability511.
Parting interrogates the human tendency to project stability onto relationships and life trajectories. The speaker’s bewilderment-“why does all so wholly change?”-echoes Clough’s own disillusionment with rigid plans, whether religious, academic, or social34. The poem’s structure reinforces this theme: each stanza begins with a question, yet resolutions remain elusive, mirroring the Victorian crisis of certainty. As critic Michael Timko notes, Clough’s work often rejects “dogmatic solutions” in favor of “honest confrontation with life’s ambiguities”1.
The final stanza’s address to “friends that are no more” amplifies the poem’s existential dread. The speaker’s plea-“Do you, too, think... we be friends, as we were first?”-metaphorically grapples with mortality, suggesting that separation prefigures death itself. This aligns with Clough’s broader exploration of silence in Dipsychus, where unanswered questions symbolize the void left by receding faith47. The poem’s unresolved ending-“Except that rule that none complain”-resonates with the stoic resignation of Arnold’s Thyrsis, a tribute to Clough that laments “the foot less prompt to meet the morning dew”37.
The speaker’s oscillation between agency (“Can I not follow, nor you turn?”) and fatalism (“all is vain”) reflects Clough’s engagement with determinism, a theme pervasive in Victorian literature. The metaphor of diverging paths evokes Robert Frost’s later “The Road Not Taken,” yet Clough’s treatment is bleaker, emphasizing not choice but inevitability8. This fatalism mirrors the period’s anxieties about progress: as industrialization and scientific discovery reshaped society, individuals increasingly felt adrift in a mechanized world10.
Parting shares thematic DNA with Clough’s Amours de Voyage, which juxtaposes romantic idealism with the chaos of revolution. Both works use iterative structures to underscore futility, yet Parting replaces Amours’ ironic detachment with raw vulnerability47. Similarly, the poem’s focus on estrangement anticipates T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, where fragmented voices symbolize modern alienation10.
A striking contrast emerges in Clough’s The Latest Decalogue, a satirical take on moral hypocrisy. Where Decalogue employs biting irony, Parting opts for lyrical sincerity, revealing Clough’s range in navigating doubt-a duality that biographer R.K. Biswas attributes to his “fractured conscience”511.
The poem’s power lies in its unflinching portrayal of vulnerability. By framing separation as both personal and universal, Clough invites readers to project their own losses onto the text. The speaker’s plea-“Do you feel nothing like it too?”-transforms individual grief into collective lament, a technique later refined by Wilfred Owen in World War I poetry8.
Clough’s refusal to resolve the central tension-between hope for reunion and acceptance of divergence-mirrors the human experience of ambiguous loss. As critic Francesco Marroni observes, Clough’s poetry thrives in “thresholds between belief and unbelief,” making Parting a timeless exploration of love’s fragility in the face of time’s passage511.
Parting stands as a masterclass in emotional and intellectual honesty. Clough’s fusion of metaphysical inquiry and visceral emotion captures the Victorian zeitgeist while transcending it, offering a mirror to modern readers grappling with impermanence. The poem’s unresolved questions-its “roar upon thy shore” of existential uncertainty-resonate with anyone who has mourned a fracture in human connection8. In this, Clough achieves what Matthew Arnold deemed the highest poetic aim: “the application of ideas to life”7. Parting endures not for its answers, but for its courage to dwell in the question.
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