The poet, trying to surprise his God
composed new forms from secret harmonies,
tore from his fiery vision galaxies
of unrelated shapes, both even & odd.
But God just smiled, and gave His know-all nod
saying, "There's no surprising One who sees
the acorn, root, and branch of centuries;
I swallow all things up, like Aaron's rod.
So hold this thought beneath your poet-bonnet:
no matter how free-seeming flows your sample
God is by definition the unsurprised."
"Then I'll return," the poet sighed, "to sonnets
of which this is a rather pale example."
"Is that right?" said God. "I hadn't realized...."
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