"There is no God," the wicked saith, <br />"And truly it's a blessing, <br />For what He might have done with us <br />It's better only guessing." <br /> <br />"There is no God," a youngster thinks, <br />"or really, if there may be, <br />He surely did not mean a man <br />Always to be a baby." <br /> <br />"There is no God, or if there is," <br />The tradesman thinks, "'twere funny <br />If He should take it ill in me <br />To make a little money." <br /> <br />"Whether there be," the rich man says, <br />"It matters very little, <br />For I and mine, thank somebody, <br />Are not in want of victual." <br /> <br />Some others, also, to themselves, <br />Who scarce so much as doubt it, <br />Think there is none, when they are well, <br />And do not think about it. <br /> <br />But country folks who live beneath <br />The shadow of the steeple; <br />The parson and the parson's wife, <br />And mostly married people; <br /> <br />Youths green and happy in first love, <br />So thankful for illusion; <br />And men caught out in what the world <br />Calls guilt, in first confusion; <br /> <br />And almost everyone when age, <br />Disease, or sorrows strike him, <br />Inclines to think there is a God, <br />Or something very like Him.<br /><br />Arthur Hugh Clough<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-is-no-god-the-wicked-sayeth/
