Page:The Bab Ballads.djvu/135

 
"You see, when an anchorite bows
To the yoke of intentional sin—
If the state of the country allows,
Homogeny always steps in—

"It's a highly æsthetical bond,
As any mere ploughboy can tell—"
"Of course," replied puzzled old Pond.
"I see," said old Tommy Morell.

"Very good then," continued the lord,
"When its fooled to the top of its bent,
With a sweep of a Damocles sword
The web of intention is rent.

"That's patent to all of us here,
As any mere schoolboy can tell."
Pond answered, "Of course it's quite clear;"
And so did that humbug Morell.

"Its tone's esoteric in force—
I trust that I make myself clear?"—
Morell only answered "Of course,"
While Pond slowly muttered, "Hear, hear."

"Volition—celestial prize,
Pellucid as porphyry cell—
Is based on a principle wise."
"Quite so," exclaimed Pond and Morell.