Shapes of Clay - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 216

THE HERMIT.

To a hunter from the city, Overtaken by the night, Spake, in tones of tender pity For himself, an aged wight: "I have found the world a fountain Of deceit and Life a sham. I have taken to the mountain And a Holy Hermit am. "Sternly bent on Contemplation, Far apart from human kind—— In the hill my habitation, In the Infinite my mind. "Ten long years I've lived a dumb thing, Growing bald and bent with dole. Vainly seeking for a Something To engage my gloomy soul. "Gentle Pilgrim, while my roots you Eat, and quaff my simple drink, Please suggest whatever suits you As a Theme for me to Think." Then the hunter answered gravely: "From distraction free, and strife, You could ponder very bravely On the Vanity of Life." "O, thou wise and learned Teacher, You have solved the Problem well— You have saved a grateful creature From the agonies of hell. "Take another root, another Cup of water: eat and drink. Now I have a Subject, brother, Tell me What, and How, to think."