Set aside the dull enigma, We shall guess it all too soon; Failure brings no kind of stigma-- Dance we to another tune! String the lyre and fill the cup, Lest on sorrow we should sup; Hop and skip to Fancy's fiddle, Hands across and down the middle-- Life's perhaps the only riddle That we shrink from giving up! [Illustration] THE REVEREND MICAH SOWLS The REVEREND MICAH SOWLS, He shouts and yells and howls, He screams, he mouths, he bumps, He foams, he rants, he thumps. His armour he has buckled on, to wage The regulation war against the Stage; And warns his congregation all to shun "The Presence-Chamber of the Evil One." The subject's sad enough To make him rant and puff, And fortunately, too, His Bishop's in a pew. So REVEREND MICAH claps on extra steam, His eyes are flashing with superior gleam, He is as energetic as can be, For there are fatter livings in that see. The Bishop, when it's o'er, Goes through the vestry door, Where MICAH, very red, Is mopping of his head. [Illustration] "Pardon, my Lord, your SOWLS' excessive zeal, It is a theme on which I strongly feel." (The sermon somebody had sent him down From London, at a charge of half-a-crown.) The Bishop bowed his head, And, acquiescing, said, "I've heard your well-meant rage Against the Modern Stage. "A modern Theatre, as I heard you say, Sows seeds of evil broadcast--well it may; But let me ask you, my respected son, Pray, have you ever ventured into one?" "My Lord," said MICAH, "no! I never, never go! What! Go and see a play? My goodness gracious, nay!" The worthy Bishop said, "My friend, no doubt The Stage may be the place you make it out; But if, my REVEREND SOWLS, you never go, I don't quite understand how you're to know." "Well, really," MICAH said, "I've often heard and read, But never go--do you?" The Bishop said, "I do." "That proves me wrong," said MICAH, in a trice; "I thought it all frivolity and vice." The Bishop handed him a printed card; "Go to a theatre where they play our Bard." The Bishop took his leave, Rejoicing in his sleeve. The next ensuing day SOWLS went and heard a play. He saw a dreary person on the stage, Who mouthed and mugged in simulated rage, Who growled and spluttered in a mode absurd, And spoke an English SOWLS had never heard. For "gaunt" was spoken "garnt," And "haunt" transformed to "harnt," And "wrath" pronounced as "rath," And "death" was changed to "dath."