" Thus will Folly eat
His chicken ere the hen hath laid the egg.
So Folly blossoms with promises all the year--
Promises that bud and blossom but to blast.
"All men are fools," said Socrates, the wise,
And in the broader sense I grant it true,
For even Socrates had his Xanthipp'.
Whose head is wise oft hath a foolish heart;
The wisest has more follies than he needs;
Wisdom and madness, too, are near akin.
The marrow-maddening canker-worm of love
Feeds on the brains of wise men as on fools'.
The wise man gathers wisdom from all men
As bees their honey hive from plant and weed.
Yea, from the varied history of the world,
From the experience of all times, all men,
The wise man learneth wisdom. Folly learns
From his own bruises if he learns at all.
The fool--born wise--what need hath he to learn?
He needs but gabble wisdom to the world:
Grill him on a gridiron and he gabbles still.
Wise men there are--wise in the eyes of men--
Who cram their hollow heads with ancient wit
Cackled in Carthage, babbled in Babylon,
Gabbled in Greece and riddled in old Rome,
And never coin a farthing of their own.
Wise men there are--for owls are counted wise--
Who love to leave the lamp-lit paths behind,
And chase the shapeless shadow of a doubt.
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