The Hermit

 AN ATTACK ON BARBERCRAFT

[Dedicated to George Cecil Jones]


At last an end of all I hoped and feared!
Muttered the hermit through his elfin beard.


Then what art thou? the evil whisper whirred.

I doubt me soerly if the hermit heard.


To all God's questions never a word he said,
But simply shook his venerable head.


God sent all plagues; he laughed and heeded not,
Till people certified him insane.


But somehow all his fellow-luntaics
Began to imitate his silly ticks.


And stranger still, their prospects so enlarged
That one by one the patients were discharged.


God asked him by what right he interfered;
He only laughed and into his elfin beard.


When God revealed Himself to mortal prayer
He gave a fatal opening to Voltaire.


Our Hermi had dispensed with Sinai's thunder,
But on the other hand he made no blunder;

He knew ( no doubt) that any axiom
Would furnish bricks to build some Donkeydom.


But!-all who urged that hermit to confess
Caught the infection of his happiness.


I would it were my fate to dree his weird;
I think that I will grow an elfin beard.

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