An Insoluble Problem
RHONA, as yet a tiny mite
Not three years old, looked up to-night
At the resplendent heavens, and said:
"What are 'ose 'tars for?"
I cannot tell, I ne'er have known—
Not being God upon His throne.
William Watson. Retrogression and Other Poems. London: John Lane, The Bodley Head, 1917.