POETRY
TIRESIAS WANTED
WHERE IS 'Tiresias ? He of all Stygian shades Alone keeps wisdom, where all wisdom fades ; The rest are famished essence, fabricked air, Too thin for thought to weave its broideries there ; In their bewildered flight they left behind All but a pale eviscerate husk of mind ; Idly they babble of things dimly seen,
With a dull ache for powers that once had been.
And such are they who, if report be true, By devious paths send dubious tidings through—.
Loose shreds of utterance, pieced with pains intense, Till they make something some will take for sense.
Where is Tiresias ? Should he rise to bait, His talk at least would be articulate ; He in intelligible terms could tell Of that drear world which is nor heaven nor hell ; And, could we catch him in prophetic vein, Might something add to ease earth's present pain.
A touch of wisdom, in our plenteous lack, Might shift Hope's anchor, or plot a saner track ; But, if he comes not, there are still the stars, And only folly chafes at reason's bars.
Where is Tiresias ? Oracles are dumb, Or some might say—" He is too wise to come."
T. THORNELY.
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