I grant how childish-foolish it looks,
But perhaps they’ve faith for the very end,—
For streams and sewers, greatest and least,
Find ocean at last, in the misty East.
The good people all are off to the churches,
While I, left here in the idlest of lurches,
Must seek a preacher to preach me a sermon,
Ordained with open-air dews of Hermon;
A discourse conservative, grave, edifying,
And—come, sir, no laughing! I really am trying