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.