Classic Poem

The Editor and Writer met in Twilight's lonely lane,
Bohemian and Sadducee, enforced to meet again:
" When next we walk, successful friend! the darkness will be deep " ;
Said the Bohemian, " Tell me, now, what have you done to keep? "

" My self-esteem, my spotless work, my influence austere!
I edited the Higher Thought, the economic seer!
Never to error did I stoop and when the State must fall,
Let history consult my files: I did predict it all.

" You wrote and lived incontinent; I had to let you drop;
And still you are a rolling-stone and I the perfect stop;
The ink-drops from my Draco's pen fall like the gibbet's rope
And splash into that stoic blank where but Bohemians hope. "

Finished the sinless Sadducee and the Bohemian said,
" The measure of a fellow's length is taken when he's dead.
I have had all of life's good things yet never worshipped me;
You, born with introverted eyes, worshipped your cavity.

" You superseded God at school, your country later on;
Plenty of earth you have possessed but none of horizon.
My talent I have not improved; I kept it in my hand:
Mine is the faith my fathers had in my dear, native land!

" One drop, " the old Bohemian said, " Within its channel strong,
I mingle in the mighty tide and with it move along,
I have no other creed than this, no power of my own:
Flow, beauteous river! Not in thee have ever I thrown a stone! "

From Twilight lane they parted last, the years were growing dark;
Neither upon the century left more than finger mark;
" Silentia " was the epitaph upon the scolding man,
But all the bands of music play past the Bohemian.