Wise things are given to those who yet lie,
Who say, the cry of the soul is a silly cry.
Come hither—town-criers and story-tellers,—
You may yell, but yell never of the yellers;
You sure are smart, do up bright robe and cap,
But when you argue you leave many a gap:
Yet a hundred town-drummers would applaud,
Your rational sense that need not know God.

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