Poems By Arjava

WISDOM was a beggar maid

Who brought a beechen bowl ;

The fool bestowed much wealth he'd made—

No shred nor ort of soul.

Wisdom came upon a town

Older than Nineveh,

To find the folk fast pulling down

Her throne, simplicity.

Then priests a complex temple god

In their vain image cast : But

She still walked the ways unshod,

Contemned and over passed.

" Go gaze upon our lofty shrine,

" They jeered at Her and yelled :

One headlong rout of rushing swine

Was all that She beheld.