The poem
Strange to know nothing, never to be sure Of what is true or right or real, But forced to qualify or so I feel, Or Well, it does seem so: Someone must know.
Strange to be ignorant of the way things work: Their skill at finding what they need, Their sense of shape, and punctual spread of seed, And willingness to change; Yes, it is strange,
Even to wear such knowledge - for our flesh Surrounds us with its own decisions - And yet spend all our life on imprecisions, That when we start to die Have no idea why.
Picture this, teacher gives everyone in class a different Larkin poem, everyone searches the net, finds their poem and comments written about it, except one, the poor s.o.b who got stuck with the poem "Ignorance". Doesn't anyone have any opinons or thoughts on it?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
no i guess that you will have to remain ignorant (get it )to the beauties and intricacies of this poem.