By what serene malevolence of names Had you the gift of yours, Theophilus? Not even a smeared young Cyclops at his games Would have you long,--and you are one of us. Told of your deeds I shudder for your dreams And they, no doubt, are few and innocent. Meanwhile, I marvel; for in you, it seems, Heredity outshines environment. What lingering bit of Belial, unforeseen, Survives and amplifies itself in you? What manner of devilry has ever been That your obliquity may never do? Humility befits a father's eyes, But not a friend of us would have him weep. Admiring everything that lives and dies, Theophilus, we like you best asleep. Sleep--sleep; and let us find another man To lend another name less hazardous: Caligula, maybe, or Caliban, Or Cain,--but surely not Theophilus. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DAISY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE SHRUBBERY, WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION by WILLIAM COWPER THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE by EMILY DICKINSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 92. AL-ZARR by EDWIN ARNOLD PATTY MORGAN THE MILKMAID'S STORY: 'LOOK AT THE CLOCK!' by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |