Whatever Is

Whatever is we only know

As in our minds we find it so;

     No staring face is half so clear

     As one dim, preconceived idea—

No matter how the fact may glow.

Vainly may Truth her trumpet blow

To stir our minds; like heavy dough

     They stick to what they think—won’t hear

          Whatever is.

Our ancient myths in solid row

Stand up—we simply have to go

     And choke each fiction old and dear

     Before the modest facts appear;

Then we may grasp, reluctanct, slow,

          Whatever is.