Whatever is we only knowAs in our minds we find it so; No staring fact is half so clear As one dim, preconceived idea .--No matter how the fact may glow.
Vainly may Truth her trumpet blowTo stir our minds; like heavy dough They stick to what they think -- won't hear Whatever is.
Our ancient myths in solid rowStand up -- we simply have to go And choke each fiction old and dear Before the modest facts appear;Then we may grasp, reluctant, slow, Whatever is.
