Why

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Why

The verdure sleeps in winter,

Awakes with April rain,

The sun swings low⁠—’tis night⁠—ascends,

And lo! ’tis morn again:

The world spins on triumphant

Across a trackless sky,

And man seeks evermore in vain

The primal reason why.

O whither are we rushing?

And wherefrom were we torn?

We breathe from out the silences,

And breathless, back are borne.

Deep in the soul are voices

Returning this reply:

It took a God to make us,

Only God can answer why!