‘Though logic-choppers rule the town，

    And every man and maid and boy

    Has marked a distant object down，

    An aimless joy is a pure joy，‘

    Or so did Tom O‘Roughley say

    That saw the surges running by，

    ‘And wisdom is a butterfly

    And not a gloomy bird of prey¹.

    ‘If little planned is little sinned

    But little need the grave distress².

    What‘s dying but a second wind？

    How but in zig-zag wantonness

    Could trumpeter Michael be so brave？‘

    Or something of that sort he said，

    ‘And if my dearest friend were dead

    I‘d dance a measure on his grave.’

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