English poem
Ad Moodium
by Ambrose Bierce (1842–1914)
Tut! Moody, do not try to show To gentlemen and ladies That if they have not "Faith," they'll go Headlong to Hades.
Faith is belief; and how can I Have that by being willing? This dime I cannot, though I try, Believe a shilling.
Perhaps you can. If so, pray do-- Believe you own it, also. But what seems evidence to you I may not call so.
Heaven knows I'd like the Faith to think This little vessel's contents Are liquid gold. I see 'tis ink For writing nonsense.
Minds prone to Faith, however, may Come now and then to sorrow: They put their trust in truth to-day, In lies to-morrow.
No doubt the happiness is great To think as one would wish to; But not to swallow every bait, As certain fish do.
To think a snake a cord, I hope, Would bolden and delight me; But some day I might think a rope Would chase and bite me.
"Curst Reason! Faith forever blest!" You're crying all the season. Well, who decides that Faith is best? Why, Mr. Reason.
He's right or wrong; he answers you According to your folly, And says what you have taught him to, Like any polly.