But since, while some are wicked, some are good, (As trees may differ though they all are wood) Names, here and there, to show whose head is hit, The bad would sentence and the good acquit. In sparing everybody none you spare: Rebukes most personal are least unfair. To fire at random if you still prefer, And swear at Dog but never kick a cur, Permit me yet one ultimate appeal To something that you understand and feel: Let thrift and vanity your heart persuade-- You might be read if you would learn your trade. Good brother cynics (you have doubtless guessed Not one of you but all are here addressed) Remember this: the shaft that seeks a heart Draws all eyes after it; an idle dart Shot at some shadow flutters o'er the green, Its flight unheeded and its fall unseen. THE HESITATING VETERAN. When I was young and full of faith And other fads that youngsters cherish A cry rose as of one that saith With unction: "Help me or I perish!" 'Twas heard in all the land, and men The sound were each to each repeating. It made my heart beat faster then Than any heart can now be beating. For the world is old and the world is gray-- Grown prudent and, I guess, more witty. She's cut her wisdom teeth, they say, And doesn't now go in for Pity. Besides, the melancholy cry Was that of one, 'tis now conceded, Whose plight no one beneath the sky Felt half so poignantly as he did. Moreover, he was black. And yet That sentimental generation With an austere compassion set Its face and faith to the occasion. Then there were hate and strife to spare, And various hard knocks a-plenty; And I ('twas more than my true share, I must confess) took five-and-twenty. That all is over now--the reign Of love and trade stills all dissensions, And the clear heavens arch again Above a land of peace and pensions. The black chap--at the last we gave Him everything that he had cried for, Though many white chaps in the grave 'Twould puzzle to say what they died for. I hope he's better off--I trust That his society and his master's Are worth the price we paid, and must Continue paying, in disasters; But sometimes doubts press thronging round ('Tis mostly when my hurts are aching) If war for union was a sound And profitable undertaking.