“The best laid plans of mice and men”

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

Since death arrives when it will come, you need

Not plan as if you know.  What happens next

Is less important than a ruined seed

Whatever you may plot.  It may be hexed

By death itself.  You think the evil hours

May well be thwarted by your shrewdest mind

(Yes, yours, of course), but it does not have powers

To see tomorrows.  You are always blind.

Cain comes again. You give your good to God

And that is right.  What possibly could go

Awry?  The facts of life will not be awed

By God and goodness.  Comes the cudgel blow.

  Thus follows peace if you are like the mouse

    Which can’t conceive destruction of its house.