'I believe in science', he says
In a voice that's sure and proud.
Yet his conviction lies near quiet,
Though his words ring rather loud.
None do ponder truly
'Til the earth has writhed and shook,
The stillness of a lonely soul
Beside a mossy brook.
Or ached with loves that, bruised and burned
Turned cheer into fraying twine;
None has pondered so truly
As the bereft on bitter wine,
Does the cold brocade of night, its
Embroidered pricks of light;
How they dwarf our cares, and
leave us bare of
Every arrogance dear.
Only then, ignominously
Does his ignorance ring clear.
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