Monday Morning Poem: Rosy-kins

by Robert William Service

As home from church we two did plod
“Grandpa,” said Rosy, “What is God?”
Seeking an answer to her mind,
This is the best that I could find. . . .                                 

God is the Iz-ness of our Cosmic Biz;
The high, the low, the near, the far,
The atom and the evening star;
The lark, the shark, the cloud, the clod,
The whole darned Universe – that’s God.

Some deem that others there be,
And to them humbly bend the knee;
To Mumbo Jumbo and to Joss,
To Bud and Allah – but the Boss
Is mine . . . While there are suns and seas
MY timeless God shall dwell in these.

In every glowing leaf He lives;
When roses die His life he gives;
God is not outside and apart
From Nature, but her very heart;
No Architect (as I of verse)
He is Himself the Universe.

Said Rosy-kins: “Grandpa, how odd
Is your imagining of God.
To me he’s always just appeared
A huge Grandfather with a beard.

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2 thoughts on “Monday Morning Poem: Rosy-kins

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