To a hunter from the city, Overtaken by the night, Spake, in tones of tender pity For himself, an aged wight:

"I have found the world a fountain Of deceit and Life a sham. I have taken to the mountain And a Holy Hermit am.

Shapes of Clay — Part 91

"Sternly bent on Contemplation, Far apart from human kind---- In the hill my habitation, In the Infinite my mind.

Shapes of Clay — Part 91

"Ten long years I've lived a dumb thing, Growing bald and bent with dole. Vainly seeking for a Something To engage my gloomy soul.

Shapes of Clay — Part 91

"Gentle Pilgrim, while my roots you Eat, and quaff my simple drink, Please suggest whatever suits you As a Theme for me to Think."

Then the hunter answered gravely: "From distraction free, and strife, You could ponder very bravely On the Vanity of Life."

"O, thou wise and learned Teacher, You have solved the Problem well-- You have saved a grateful creature From the agonies of hell.

"Take another root, another Cup of water: eat and drink. Now I have a Subject, brother, Tell me What, and How, to think."

Affronting fool, subdue your transient light; When Wisdom's dull dares Folly to be bright: If Genius stumble in the path to fame, 'Tis decency in dunces to go lame.

A merry Christmas? Prudent, as I live!-- You wish me something that you need not give.

Merry or sad, what does it signify? To you 't is equal if I laugh, or die.

Your hollow greeting, like a parrot's jest, Finds all its meaning in the ear addressed.

Why "merry" Christmas? Faith, I'd rather frown Than grin and caper like a tickled clown.

When fools are merry the judicious weep; The wise are happy only when asleep.

A present? Pray you give it to disarm A man more powerful to do you harm.

'T was not your motive? Well, I cannot let You pay for favors that you'll never get.

Perish the savage custom of the gift, Founded in terror and maintained in thrift!

What men of honor need to aid their weal They purchase, or, occasion serving, steal.

Go celebrate the day with turkeys, pies, Sermons and psalms, and, for the children, lies.

Let Santa Claus descend again the flue; If Baby doubt it, swear that it is true.

"A lie well stuck to is as good as truth," And God's too old to legislate for youth.

Hail Christmas! On my knees and fowl I fall: For greater grace and better gravy call. _Vive l'Humbug!_--that's to say, God bless us all!