WHEN I look forth at dawning, pool, <br /> Field, flock, and lonely tree, <br /> All seem to look at me <br /> Like chastened children sitting silent in a school; <br /> <br /> Their faces dulled, constrained, and worn, <br /> As though the master's ways <br /> Through the long teaching days <br /> Their first terrestrial zest had chilled and overborne. <br /> <br /> And on them stirs, in lippings mere <br /> (As if once clear in call, <br /> But now scarce breathed at all)-- <br /> "We wonder, ever wonder, why we find us here! <br /> <br /> "Has some Vast Imbecility, <br /> Mighty to build and blend, <br /> But impotent to tend, <br /> Framed us in jest, and left us now to hazardry? <br /> <br /> "Or come we of an Automaton <br /> Unconscious of our pains?... <br /> Or are we live remains <br /> Of Godhead dying downwards, brain and eye now gone? <br /> <br /> "Or is it that some high Plan betides, <br /> As yet not understood, <br /> Of Evil stormed by Good, <br /> We the Forlorn Hope over which Achievement strides?" <br /> <br /> Thus things around. No answerer I.... <br /> Meanwhile the winds, and rains, <br /> And Earth's old glooms and pains <br /> Are still the same, and gladdest Life Death neighbors nigh.<br /><br />Thomas Hardy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nature-s-questioning/
