Fragment For Philosophers

|IN the abysses of the ocean deeps,

`Fathoms removed from men and mortal strife,

The unexpectant Oyster smiles and sleeps

`Through the calm cycle of his peaceful life.=

What though above his head the steamboat plies,

`And close at hand he hears the fume and fuss

Of the impetuous Halibut that flies

`The mad embraces of the Octopus.=

Though the fierce tails of Whales like flails descend

`Upon the water lashed to furious foam,

And the Sea-serpents writhe and twist and bend

`All round the purlieus of his ocean home,=

He still preserves his philosophic calm,

`His high detachment from material things,

And lays to his untroubled soul the balm

`Of that contentment oft denied to kings.=

Not far off, on the shore, men fume and fret,

`And prowl and howl and postulate and preach,

The Baby bellows in the bassinet,

`And the Salvation Army on the beach.=

The unsuccessful "Artist" of the "Halls"

`Has blacked his face with cork, and now he sings

Of moons and coons and comic funerals

`And the enchantment that the cake-walk brings.=

And on the pier the "milingtary band"

`Poisons the air with beastly brazen sound,

While cockney couples wander hand in hand,

`And dismal tourists tour,

And bounders bound.=

And donkey-boys allure to donkey rides

`The sitters on the sand beside the sea,

And touts sell "guides" to all the town provides,

`From theatres to "painless dentistry."=

To all this noise the Oyster lends no ear,

`Partly because he has no ear to lend,

Partly because he hates to interfere,

`Chiefly because these rhymes must have an end.=