Read "Yet Do I Marvel” by Countee Cullen.I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind,And did He stoop to quibble could tell whyThe little buried mole continues blind, Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die,Make plain the reason tortured TantalusIs baited by the fickle fruit, declare If merely brute caprice dooms SisyphusTo struggle up a never-ending stair. Inscrutable His ways are, and immune To catechism by a mind too strewn With petty cares to slightly understand What awful brain compels His awful hand. Yet do I marvel at this curious thing: To make a poet black, and bid him sing!