The Stupid God again has worked its will
And in so doing occasioned more ill
For me, and doubtless found its own cheap thrill
In doing so. So much the less this day
Can be done to its ill effects allay
Than could before it would itself betray
As working once again in the fair land
Where I have lived and thought to make a stand
For spread of knowledge and the mind’s command.
Yet that is not to be, is not desired,
No more than those who thought they had been hired
To reach in, pull out those who had been mired
In ignorance, the Stupid God’s foul touch;
In doing little, I have done too much.
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