God never plucks me by the sleeve And begs for my advice,And since He doesn't all His works Leave me cold as ice.
The dust of all the vulgar moons And planets overheadIs just the same inferior dirt I daily spurn and tread.
Considering the soul I have, I think it quite unfairThat all the air I get to breathe Is ordinary air!
Considering the thoughts I think And state with every breathIt's odd my views have not been asked Concerning life and death.
Considering my brains, 'tis strange -- (If it is nothing worse!)That God has not consulted me About the universe.
Since God does naught but frown at me, I shall do more than frown!I'll start a Pale Brown Magazine And shake the Cosmos down!
