But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past?
Of what I call God, And fools call Nature.
Who knows most, doubts most.
So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!
Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!
On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.