Classic Poem

An ancient Rishi, legends say,
A Buddhist of an early day,
His pack of worldly thoughts laid down
And hied him from Benares town.

A chosen spot at length he found
Where naught but nature stretched around,
Where silence reigned supreme, and where
Might penetrate no earthly care.

Content with this, the Hindu sate
Him on the earth to contemplate;
To think away, as Buddhists do,
All passions and all feelings too.

And then, that nothing might surprise
His mind through medium of his eyes,
He fixed those orbs in restful pose
Upon the apex of his nose.

How long he sate there none can tell;
But that he contemplated well
From minor details may be gleaned,
Though ages since have intervened.

For instance, over him a bird
Flew all unnoticed and unheard,
Dropping an acorn as it flew,
Which sprouted as he mused, and grew,

Until his straddled legs between
There stood a shrub of lusty green,
And finally about his head
A mighty oak its branches spread!

Above him squirrels reared their young,
And feathered legions loved and sung,
While all around him, far and wide,
Snakes dug their holes and lived and died.

Of all these things, immersed in thought,
The Rishi knew far less than naught,
Because his vision never rose
Beyond the apex of his nose!

So, wide and far the rumor went,
And many folk in wonderment
Cried, when they saw that face of his:
“How wise a man the Rishi is!”

'Tis but a legend, I confess,
Exaggerated more or less,
And yet within it lurks a seed
Of truth, which all may see who read.

Have we not thinkers, e'en to-day,
Pursuing that old Rishi's way,
Who, deeply learned though they be,
Beyond their noses never see?