So many men, on such a date of May, Despaired and took their hopeless lives away In such an area, year after year; In such another place, it would appear The assassinations averaged so and so, Through August after August, scarce below A given range; and in another one, March after March, it seems there were undone So many women still about the same, With little varying circumstance in their shame; Burglaries, arsons, thefts, and forgeries Had their own averages as well as these; And from these figures science can discern The future in the past. We but return Upon our steps, although they seem so free. The thing that has been is that which shall be. Dark prophet, yes! But still somehow the round Is spiral, and the race's feet have found The path rise under them which they have trod. Your facts are facts, yet somewhere there is God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MYSTERY OF PAIN by EMILY DICKINSON THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN; PARODY OF TENNYSON'S 'LOCKSLEY HALL' by THEODORE MARTIN SHEARERS'SONG, FR. KING RENE'S ROMANCE by GORDON BOTTOMLEY WHEN JUNE IS COME by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES UPON YE SIGHT OF MY ABORTIVE BIRTH YE 31TH: OF DECEMBER 1657 by MARY CAREY |