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...THE TIGER, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE JOSEPH'S COAT by GEORGE HERBERT WRITTEN IN MARCH by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE VILLAGE MUNITIONS CO., INC.; FORMERLY THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 2. ON THE WINTER SOLSTICE, 1740 by MARK AKENSIDE PROVERBS 25, SELECTION by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |