Granted, we die for good. <br />Life, then, is largely a thing <br />Of happens to like, not should. <br /> <br />And that, too, granted, why <br />Do I happen to like red bush, <br />Grey grass and green-gray sky? <br /> <br />What else remains? But red, <br />Gray, green, why those of all? <br />That is not what I said: <br /> <br />Not those of all. But those. <br />One likes what one happens to like. <br />One likes the way red grows. <br /> <br />It cannot matter at all. <br />Happens to like is one <br />Of the ways things happen to fall.<br /><br />Wallace Stevens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/table-talk-2/
