To Oscar Wilde

Because from Folly's lips you got Some babbled mandate to subdue The realm of Common Sense, and you Made promise and considered not Because you strike a random blow At what you do not understand, And beckon with a friendly hand To something that you do not know, I hold no speech of your desert, Nor answer with porrected shield The wooden weapon that you wield, But meet you with a cast of dirt. Dispute with such a thing as you Twin show to the two-headed calf? Why, sir, if I repress my laugh, 'T is more than half the world can do.