I Told You So
Please do not ask of future's fate,
Or information small or great.
You will be sorry if you know,
And I will say, "I told you so."
Gay roses bloom most every year,
But even roses die, I fear;
Still, the fresh breath of spring appears
After cold winter's troubled tears.
And so it is with you and I;
The rose and we shall surely die,
But know then, neither they nor we;
Will Know when, where, or how it be.
I for one would much rather not
Know in advance the deathly spot,
And pass it by, day after day;
Avoiding that mortal by-way.
And if you knew exactly when,
You could watch every day begin
With the sure knowledge of your fate,
And never worry if you're late.
If you knew just how you would die,
You might avoid the reaper's scythe,
And never board another train,
Or bypass each and every plane.
Dear God has not bestowed on me,
Such knowledge and I must agree;
The lord is right, we need not know,
And after all, "I told you so!"
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