DO YOU, in the morning pine trees know 
 Why things were made to bloom and grow? 
 How all that lives submits to fate, 
 And whence cares go when they're too late? 

Do you, as the waking birds sing on 
 Find solace in the peace of dawn, 
 Or do you stew, and stir, and fret 
 For all that hasn't happened yet?