This is the wisdom of the Ape
Who yelps beneath the Moon—
“’Tis God who made me in His shape
He is a Great Baboon.
’Tis He who tilts the moon askew
And fans the forest trees,
The heavens which are broad and blue
Provide him his trapeze;
He swings with tail divinely bent
Around those azure bars
And munches to his Soul’s content
The kernels of the stars;
And when I die, His loving care
Will raise me from the sod
To learn the perfect Mischief there,
The Nimbleness of God.”