The Hermit

by
 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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