“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 prey.

If little planned is little sinned

But little need the grave distress.

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.”