You Say, All’s Been By Accident

You Say, All’s Been By Accident

You say, all’s been by accident,

Derivative as if from naught,

While if it were without intent

How exquisitely it’s wrought!

You say, that there is no design

But the idea which I project

(The pattern I perceive is mine,

A sort of mental side effect)

But I say, that there’s purpose to

Whatever object we perceive

That shows us everything in view

So that we’re able to believe.

You say, that I’ve imagined that,

But after all, how do you know

That anything which you look at

Is not there to be put on show?