I cannot count the pebbles in the brook. <br />Well hath He spoken: "Swear not by thy head. <br />Thou knowest not the hairs," though He, we read, <br />Writes that wild number in His own strange book. <br /> <br />I cannot count the sands or search the seas, <br />Death cometh, and I leave so much untrod. <br />Grant my immortal aureole, O my God, <br />And I will name the leaves upon the trees, <br /> <br />In heaven I shall stand on gold and glass, <br />Still brooding earth's arithmetic to spell; <br />Or see the fading of the fires of hell <br />Ere I have thanked my God for all the grass.<br /><br />Gilbert Keith Chesterton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/eternities/
