"How Often, Under Starry Skies"

. How often, under starry skies, I ruminate the ancient lore And think about the wondrous wise, Who thought all things we thought before, Of earlier men, without the pen, Who wondered hard and thought like-wise And also thought, as I tonight, Of men before who thought aright And knew their thoughts were just reprise And doubtless also doubted then If profit came to think before, Or, if it did, would come again.