The Philosophers

The best of true philosophers
Are the children, after all,--
The children with laughing hearts
And the serious field and ball:
They have a bowl and bubbles,
And hours where rainbows are;
They find, if ever the sun is hid,
In every dark a star.

But, O, the sorry men that make
The wise books of our day!
They cannot smile athwart a cloud,
When black thoughts lead astray;
They cannot add a simple sum,
But talk like drunken men,
And shut their eyes to keep out God
When spring comes in again.

Far simpler than the Rule of Three
Are the laws of earth and sky;
Yet fools will muddle all true thought,
And pride will have its cry;
The banners with their deadly words
Go reeling on unfurled,
And sin and sadness march along
To the heartbreak of the world.

Michael Earls

Michael Earls, born on November 2, 1875, and died on November 7, 1937, was an American poet, playwright, and Jesuit priest. He was a prolific writer, contributing to numerous American periodicals and magazines. His works often explored themes of faith, nature, and human experience. He was known for his engaging style and profound insights into spirituality and everyday life. Earls had a significant influence on Catholic literature in America during the early 20th century.

Michael Earls

His Light

Michael Earls, Simple Poetry

The Young Adventurers

Michael Earls, Simple Poetry

Old Hudson Rovers

Michael Earls, Simple Poetry

English

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The Philosophers

But the children are the wise men,
With the clearest heart and mind;
If two and one are three, they say,
Then truth is near to find;
If this be now that once was not,
If things must have a cause,
Then very simple is the sum
That God is in His laws.

The world's men that are fools enough,
They will not speak that way,
But with a cloud of muddled thought
They hide the light of day;
Yet laughing words and candid truth
Abide by field and hall,
Where the best of true philosophers
Are the children, after all.

Michael Earls

Translations. - The Philosophers. (From Schiller.)

The principle whence everything
To life and shape ascended--
The pulley whereon Zeus the ring
Of Earth, which else in sherds would spring,
Has carefully suspended--
To genius I yield him a claim
Who fathoms for me what its name,
Save I withdraw its curtain:
It is--ten is not thirteen.

That snow makes cold, that fire burns,
That man on two feet goeth,
That in the heavens the sun sojourns--
This much the man who logic spurns
Through his own senses knoweth;
But metaphysics who has got,
Knows he that burneth, freezeth not;
Knows 'tis the moist that wetteth,
And 'tis the rough that fretteth.

Great Homer sings his epic high;
The hero fronts his dangers;
The brave his duty still doth ply--
And did it while, I won't deny,
Phil...

George MacDonald

The Philosopher's Oration.

(From 'A Faun's Holiday')


Meanwhile, though nations in distress
Cower at a comet's loveliness
Shaken across the midnight sky;
Though the wind roars, and Victory,
A virgin fierce, on vans of gold
Stoops through the cloud's white smother rolled
Over the armies' shock and flow
Across the broad green hills below,
Yet hovers and will not circle down
To cast t'ward one the leafy crown;
Though men drive galleys' golden beaks
To isles beyond the sunset peaks,
And cities on the sea behold
Whose walls are glass, whose gates are gold,
Whose turrets, risen in an hour,
Dazzle between the sun and shower,
Whose sole inhabitants are kings
Six cubits high with gryphon's wings
And beard and mien more glorious
Than Midas or Assaracus;
Though ...

Robert Malise Bowyer Nichols

Mr. Philosopher

Old Mr. Philosopher
Comes for Ben and Claire,
An ugly man, a tall man,
With bright-red hair.

The books that he's written
No one can read.
"In fifty years they'll understand:
Now there's no need.

"All that matters now
Is getting the fun.
Come along, Ben and Claire;
Plenty to be done."

Then old Philosopher,
Wisest man alive,
Plays at Lions and Tigers
Down along the drive,

Gambolling fiercely
Through bushes and grass,
Making monstrous mouths,
Braying like an ass,

Twisting buttercups
In his orange hair,
Hopping like a kangaroo,
Growling like a bear.

Right up to tea-time
They frolic there.
"My legs are wingle,"
Says Ben to Claire.

Robert von Ranke Graves

Address To The Unco Guid, Or The Rigidly Righteous.

    "My son, these maxims make a rule,
        And lump them ay thegither;
    The Rigid Righteous is a fool,
        The Rigid Wise anither:
    The cleanest corn that e'er was dight
        May hae some pyles o' caff in;
    So ne'er a fellow-creature slight
        For random fits o' daffin."

Solomon. - Eccles. ch. vii. ver. 16.


I.

    O ye wha are sae guid yoursel',
        Sae pious and sae holy,
    Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
        Your neibor's fauts and folly!
    Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
        Supply'd wi' store o' water,
    The heaped happer's ebbing still,
        And still the clap plays clatter.

II.

    Hear me, ye venerable core,
        As counsel for poor mortals...

Robert Burns

Philosophy

I.

His eyes found nothing beautiful and bright,
Nor wealth nor, honour, glory nor delight,
Which he could grasp and keep with might and right.

Flowers bloomed for maidens, swords outflashed for boys,
The worlds big children had their various toys;
He could not feel their sorrows and their joys.

Hills held a secret they would not unfold,
In careless scorn of him the ocean rolled,
The stars were alien splendours high and cold.

He felt himself a king bereft of crown,
Defrauded from his birthright of renown,
Bred up in littleness with churl and clown.



II.

How could he vindicate himself? His eyes,
That found not anywhere their proper prize,
Looked through and through the specious earth and skies,

They prob...

James Thomson