A Patch Of Old Snow

Poem By Robert Frost

Impossible for men who live in it,
because God made it with perfection,
the world must hope that they’ve forgiven it
for His unnatural selection.

Zbigniew Herbert wrote, in a poem called “The Studio”:

When God built the world
he wrinkled his forehead
calculated and calculated
hence the world is perfect
and impossible to live in.

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