It's one of the most loved - a bewilderment at existence
Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
Edward FitzGerald muses about the aimlessness of life and the wastefulness of death ... and I love the elegance and pathos of his musing.
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