<h2> Theophilus </h2>
<p>By what serene malevolence of names<br/>
Had you the gift of yours, Theophilus?<br/>
Not even a smeared young Cyclops at his games<br/>
Would have you long,—and you are one of us.<br/>
<br/>
Told of your deeds I shudder for your dreams,<br/>
And they, no doubt, are few and innocent.<br/>
Meanwhile, I marvel; for in you, it seems,<br/>
Heredity outshines environment.<br/>
<br/>
What lingering bit of Belial, unforeseen,<br/>
Survives and amplifies itself in you?<br/>
What manner of devilry has ever been<br/>
That your obliquity may never do?<br/>
<br/>
Humility befits a father's eyes,<br/>
But not a friend of us would have him weep.<br/>
Admiring everything that lives and dies,<br/>
Theophilus, we like you best asleep.<br/>
<br/>
Sleep—sleep; and let us find another man<br/>
To lend another name less hazardous:<br/>
Caligula, maybe, or Caliban,<br/>
Or Cain,—but surely not Theophilus.<br/></p>
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