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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348543" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Cynic of the Woods</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come I from busy haunts of men, <br>With nature to commune, <br>Which you, it seems, observe, and then <br>Laugh out, like some buffoon. <br> <br>You cease, and through the forest drear <br>I pace, with sense of awe; <br>When once again upon my ear <br>Breaks in your harsh guffaw. <br> <br>I look aloft to yonder place, <br>Where placidly you sit, <br>And tell you to your very face, <br>I do not like your wit. <br> <br>I’m in no mood for blatant jest, <br>I hate your mocking song, <br>My weary soul demands the rest <br>Denied to it so long. <br> <br>Besides, there passes through my brain <br>The poet’s love of fame— <br>Why should not an Australian strain <br>Immortalize my name? <br> <br>And so I pace the forest drear, <br>Filled with a sense of awe, <br>When louder still upon my ear <br>Breaks in your harsh guffaw. <br> <br>Yet truly, Jackass, it may be, <br>My words are all unjust: <br>You laugh at what you hear and see, <br>And laugh because you must. <br> <br>You’ve seen Man civilized and rude, <br>Of varying race and creed, <br>The black-skinned savage almost nude, <br>The Englishman in tweed. <br> <br>And here the lubra oft has strayed, <br>To rest beneath the boughs, <br>Where now, perchance, some fair-haired maid <br>May hear her lover’s vows; <br> <br>While you from yonder lofty height <br>Have studied human ways, <br>And, with a satirist’s delight, <br>Dissected hidden traits. <br> <br>Laugh on, laugh on! Your rapturous shout <br>Again on me intrudes; <br>But I have found your secret out, <br>O cynic of the woods! <br> <br>Well! I confess, grim mocking elf, <br>Howe’er I rhapsodize, <br>That I am more in love with self <br>Than with the earth or skies. <br> <br>So I will lay the epic by, <br>That I had just begun: <br>Why should I scribble? Let me lie <br>And bask here in the sun. <br> <br>And let me own, were I endowed <br>With your fine humorous sense, <br>I, too, should laugh—ay, quite as loud, <br>At all Man’s vain pretence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Arthur+Patchett+Martin">Arthur Patchett Martin</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348543" data-title="The Cynic of the Woods de Arthur Patchett Martin" data-description="Come I from busy haunts of men, 
With nature to commune, 
Which you, it seems, observe, and then 
Laugh out, like some buffoon. 
 
You cease, and through the forest drear 
I pace, with sense of awe; 
When once again upon my ear 
Breaks in your har..."></div>
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