That Mystery.The life that is and is to be, The only thing I bring about Is reason's cold philosophy. The cradle stands upon the shore Of that dark sea, whose restless wave Lies close behind, and just before Is tossing up against the grave. We drift out from that dim unknown Up to the shore of life, and then, Ere long, we shape a bark, and soon Drift out upon that sea again. The world is but a tiny isle Wherein to make a moment's stay__ We pause and fret a little while And then pursue our onward way. We come, we go, who knoweth more ? From what dim region were we borne ? And who shall say what other shore Our bark may touch ere its return ? __Albert Bigelow Paine. |
Visit the Home Page for Kansas