2 Poems: Arthur Hugh Clough

"There is no god, the wicked sayeth" "There is no God," the wicked saith, "And truly it's a blessing, For what He might have done with us It's better only guessing." "There is no God," a youngster thinks, "or really, if there may be, He surely did not mean a man Always to be a baby." "There is no God, or if there is," The tradesman thinks, "'twere funny If He should take it ill in me To make a little money." "Whether there be," the rich man says, "It matters very little, For I and mine, thank somebody, Are not in want of victual." Some others, also, to themselves, Who scarce so much as doubt it, Think there is none, when they are well, And do not think about it. But country folks who live beneath The shadow of the steeple; The parson and the parson's wife, And mostly married people; Youths green and happy in first love, So thankful for illusion; And men caught out in what the world Calls guilt, in first confusion; And almost everyone when age, Disease, or sorrows strike him, Inclines to think there is a God, Or something very like Him. "The Latest Decalogue" Thou shalt have one God only; who Would be at the expense of two? No graven images may be Worshipp'd, except the currency: Swear not at all; for, for thy curse Thine enemy is none the worse: At church on Sunday to attend Will serve to keep the world thy friend: Honour thy parents; that is, all From whom advancement may befall: Thou shalt not kill; but need'st not strive Officiously to keep alive: Do not adultery commit; Advantage rarely comes of it: Thou shalt not steal; an empty feat, When it's so lucrative to cheat: Bear not false witness; let the lie Have time on its own wings to fly: Thou shalt not covert; but tradition Approves all forms of competition.