And where at last must all our questions end? Are they not even as futile as we deem A child's first questions of his earliest friend? More futile! for what folly must it seem To question where we find no answering gleam, No guiding hand, no tongue that shall expound The mysteries which in our lives abound? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHNNY SPAIN'S WHITE HEIFER by HAYDEN CARRUTH DREAM LIFE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE QUARREL by KATHERINE MANSFIELD DOMESDAY BOOK: THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS READY TO KILL by CARL SANDBURG DEDICATION TO THE LATER SONNETS TO URANIA by GEORGE SANTAYANA |