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THE SWORD OF SONG
Lord George
Sanger * on the
Unknowable.
How the crea-
tures talk.
He tells me when I cite the “ Fall”
‘‘ But those are legends, after all.”
He has a hundred hills * to he in,
But finds no final ditch * to die in.
‘“* Samuel was man ; the Holy Spook
Did not dictate the Pentateuch.”
With cunning feint he lures me on
To loose my pompoms on Saint John ;
And, that hill being shelled, doth swear
His forces never had been there.
I got disgusted, called a parley,
(Here comes a white-flag treachery !)
Asked: “ Is there anything you value,
Will hold to?” He laughed, “‘ Chase me, Charlie !”
But seeing in his mind that I ,
Would not be so converted, ‘* Shall you,”
He added, “ grope in utter dark?
The Book of Acts and that of Mark
Are now considered genuine.”
I snatch a Testament, begin
Reading at random the first page ;—
He stops me with a gesture sage :
“You must not think, because I say
St. Mark is genuine, I would lay
Such stress unjust upon its text,
As base thereon opinion. Next?”
I gave itup. Heescaped. Ah me!
But so did Christianity.
As for a quiet talk on physics sane ac
Lente, I hear the British Don
Spout sentiments more bovine than a sane yak
Ever would ruminate upon,
Half Sabbatarian and half Khakimaniac,
Built up from Paul and John,
With not a little tincture of Leviticus
Gabbled pro formé, jaldi,t A la Psittacus
To aid the appalling hotch-potch ; lyre and lute
Replaced by liar and loot, the harp and flute
* Proprietor of a circus and menagerie.
+ Hindustani: quickly.
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