Thomas Hardy — New Years Eve

"I have finished another year," said God,        &nbsp "In grey, green, white, and brown; I have strewn the leaf upon the sod, Sealed up the worm within the clod,        &nbsp And let the last sun down." "And what's the good of it?" I said.        &nbsp "What reasons made you call From formless void this earth we tread, When nine-and-ninety can be read        &nbsp Why nought should be at all? "Yea, Sire; why shaped you us, 'who in        &nbsp This tabernacle groan' - If ever a joy be found herein, Such joy no man had wished to win        &nbsp If he had never known!" Then he: "My labours—logicless -        &nbsp You may explain; not I: Sense-sealed I have wrought, without a guess That I evolved a Consciousness        &nbsp To ask for reasons why. "Strange that ephemeral creatures who        &nbsp By my own ordering are, Should see the shortness of my view, Use ethic tests I never knew,        &nbsp Or made provision for!" He sank to raptness as of yore,        &nbsp And opening New Year's Day Wove it by rote as theretofore, And went on working evermore        &nbsp In his unweeting way.