The poem
Son put a poser up to me That made me scratch my head: "God made the whole wide world," quoth he; "That's right, my boy," I said. Said son: "He mad the mountains soar, And all the plains lie flat; But Dad, what did he do before He did all that?
Said I: "Creation was his biz; He set the stars to shine; The sun and moon and all that is Were His unique design. The Cosmos is his concrete thought, The Universe his chore..." Said Son: "I understand, but what Did He before?"
I gave it up; I could not cope With his enquiring prod, And must admit I've little hope Of understanding God. Indeed I find more to my mind The monkey in the tree In whose crude form Nature defined Our human destiny.
Thought I: "Why search for Deity In visionary shape? 'Twould better be if we could see The angel in the ape. Let mystic seek a God above: Far wiser he who delves, To find in kindliness and love God in ourselves."