Favorite Poems Throughout My Life
52: “Design,” 1922 (and in A Further Range, 1936), by Robert Frost (1874–1963)
A sonnet by our old friend Frost,
Who writes a bit about the cost
And what coincidence can bring
To moths and spiders—anything.
Was it design that merged that moth,
That spider, flower—such a cloth
Of pure implausibility?
You cannot find what you can’t see.
I can’t remember where I came
Across these lines? But, sure, the fame
Of Frost at first had made me pause—
And read—and think about mere Cause.