Classic Poem

The barber held the mirror up behind
So I might see the way I looked in back
And approve and praise the wonder of his art
Yet—as I have observed a hundred times—
Suppose I should not like what he had done,
Suppose I said, “Well, that's a rotten haircut,”
Would it improve the appearance of my neck?

And as the barber held the mirror up
I thought how like to Consciousness was that,
To Consciousness, and Life, and the Universe.
The mirror is held up for us to look
And if we like it not, what can we do?
Nothing at all. We cannot even say,
“Oh, well, next time I'll get another barber.”

The barber held the mirror up behind
So I might see the way I looked in back
And approve and praise the wonder of his art
Yet—as I have observed a hundred times—
Suppose I should not like what he had done,
Suppose I said, “Well, that's a rotten haircut,”
Would it improve the appearance of my neck?

And as the barber held the mirror up
I thought how like to Consciousness was that,
To Consciousness, and Life, and the Universe.
The mirror is held up for us to look
And if we like it not, what can we do?
Nothing at all. We cannot even say,
“Oh, well, next time I'll get another barber.”