The poem
If we could roll back History A century, let's say, And start from there, I'm sure that we Would find things as to-day: In all creation's cosmic range No vestige of a change.
Turn back a thousand years, the same Unchangement we would view; Cause and Effect their laws proclaim, The truest of the true, And in life's mechanistic groove The Universe would move.
Grim is the grip of the Machine And everything we do Designed implacably has been Since earth was virgin new: We strut our parts as they were writ,-- That's all there is to it.
Curse on such thinking! let us play At Free Will, though we be The gnatlike creatures of the day, The dupes of Destiny . . . The merle is merry in the may-- Tommorow's time to pray.