To Oscar Wilde

Because from Folly’s lips you got
  Some babbled mandate to subdue
  The realm of Common Sense, and you
Made promise and considered not⁠—

Because you strike a random blow
  At what you do not understand,
  And beckon with a friendly hand
To something that you do not know,

I hold no speech of your desert,
  Nor answer with porrected shield
  The wooden weapon that you wield,
But meet you with a cast of dirt.

Dispute with such a thing as you⁠—
  Twin show to the two-headed calf?
  Why, sir, if I repress my laugh,
’Tis more than half the world can do.