by Patience Worth
While earth passeth me, I stand apart
Within my tabernacle withdrawn,
Letting the dizzy day speed past,
While like a mise-man I lay hold
Of that which I would treasure.
Who is he who would consort with wise men?
Give me good fools! Wisdom hath
That wearying quality which drunkens one,
While the fool's company is like fitful draughts
From some woody-tainted spring
That hath nestled within the moss.
Oh, the fool hath that pleasurable essence,
Which is like old wine, holding the power
To drunken, yea, but making the legs young,
Not age-heavy, setting thy wits at fancy-weaving,
Yea, setting thy dull wits spinning new webs!
Oh, the fool is the nestling within the eagle's nest;
Holding the power of high flights.
Oh, I would consort with fools
That I know the flavor of the day;
For the wise mince upon crumbs,
While the fool is a glutton, eating that
Which wisdom is unacquainted with, thereby
Taking on more beautiful rotundity-
Thereby becoming more foolish!
Give me a fool to sharpen my wits,
Not a wise man!
I take my stuff from man as he passes,
While I retire within my tabernacle.
Oh, the jest! When I may put within
The mouths of fools the tongues of wise men,
Watching their astonishment,
While I may in turn, hang within
A wise jaw the tongue of a fool!.
This is right and meet,
For I within my tabernacle know,
That many wise men wag foolishly,
While fools hold the pith of argument.
Yea, I would create!
I'd weary amid the wise and seek the foolish!
Last updated January 14, 2019