Classic Poem

From whence I come, or whither go,
My creed is this: I do not know.
Into this creed all others flow.

I am a flickering spark of mind;
Vast darkness is before, behind—
Darkness to me, for I am blind.

Lo, in a blade of grass there dwell
Dread mysteries I cannot spell,
Higher than heaven, deeper than hell.

Things were, and are, and are to be;
I peer not into mystery,
And cry, made bold through fear, “I see.”

Things were, and are, and go their way,
Whether they govern or obey;
With them I go and cannot stray.

“I do not know.” All thought sublime,
All prophesies of former time,
But hide this pearl in seas of slime.

And I, who neither fear nor trust,
Holding this creed because I must,
Shall not be mocked, alive or dust.