Classic Poem

( The Prologue )

With double grace had heaven bestowed the home
Of Philip Moore. Two children, motherless
From infancy, had grown to graceful youth
And comely form; his special care had come
To be his special joy. The daughter was
Most beautiful; the son most manly. Oft
Would she in coyness ask: “Which do you love
The more?” And he: “Which would you part with first?”
“Why, neither! neither!” Philip would reply;
Then hug them to his breast and punctuate
His love with kisses.

There's no temple but
Some sacrilegious thought would desecrate.
Luke Scott, heir of ill-gotten wealth, first won
The smiles a doting father ne'er forbid,—
Made purity his prey, then scoffed at love.
The brother found the sister in the stream,
Then turned avenger and was slain.
And when
The father saw them dead he groaned and fell.
A wonder 't is grief does not sometimes kill,—
A pity too.
 When Philip Moore returned
To consciousness, his children lay asleep,
Both in one grave; he left alone with grief.
The demon had confessed; insanity
Had pleaded as the cause.

“Where is the poor
Man's justice?” Philip muttered. “Ah, 't is here;
Insanity 's a game that two can play!
If law permit the lunatic to kill,
Let lunatics be executioners!
And if insanity will shield a crime,
Insanity must shield the crime's revenge!
The selfsame cloak that hides the criminal
Shall hide the avenger. Aye, that man must die!”
And from that hour he feigned insanity.
All pitied him; and children through the town
Ran fearlessly to play with Crazy Phill.

( The Play )

 “What! here again, old Crazy Phil?
Why daily beg of me to let you through
These doors to see the jail? What would you do
 If I should grant your will?”
“First, I would beg a match to light my pipe;
Invite the inmates out when fruit is ripe!

 “By discourse of a fool
'T is given out: babes in the woods one day
Lost hope and life; but first they lost their way!
 They should have been at school!
These men must hang! Each sent to me in hope
I'd be so kind as make a nice soft rope.

 “So I have brought this straw
To have the loops by measure fit their throttles
Like wicker work about the neck of bottles,
 By rule as well as law.”
The jailor spoke: “Here 's simple Crazy Phil;
Guards, let him pass, so be it he keep still!”

 He goes from cell to cell
With quaint disjointed speech; seeming to be
The harmless victim of strange lunacy,
 He acts his part so well.
Before a far-removed cell he stops;
Assured he 's unobserved, his mask he drops.

 “So I am here at last!
Good morning, Mister Murderer, good morn!
Why try to turn away from me in scorn?
 Do I recall the past?
I'll turn this panorama of your crime;
But leave revenge until some fitter time!

 “I 've come to make you think.
Look, here 's my precious daughter, pure and fair;
Found in the water; all her golden hair
 Afloat upon the brink.
The river drowned her in its pitying tears
To find her blighted in her tender years.

 “At his, her loving brother,
The reins of Justice in his frenzied grasp,
Drove at you for revenge; your poinard asp
 Stung his young heart! Another
Poor victim at your door; I found this dagger;
It bore your name; the load made reason stagger.

 Too much for one humanity!
When reason came, you had confessed the crime;
Maintained 't was ‘ self-defense ,’ claimed for the time
 A species of insanity!
Wealth brought delays, and wealth will set you free,
Free from the law, from all the world but me!

 “For fear you might forget,
Here's crime's rehearsal short as I can make it—
This dagger's length—Oh, no, you shall not take it!—
 At least, kind sir, not yet!
Through craft, to others I am ‘Crazy Phil!’
But Philip Moore to him I mean to kill!

 “And, if you doubt me sane,
Gaze here; play courtship with my soulful eye!
You cannot? Then by other testing try
 To mock this reasoning brain
That sits, like Job of old, from all apart,
In sackcloth on the ashes of the heart.

 “My sweet girl, and my boy!
You robbed the poor with gilded blandishment,
Stole those pet lambs from out the shepherd's tent,
 His all—his double joy!
I'd tear you limb from limb, but that I wait
To goad you with the agony of fate.

 “See Justice stand apart,
With chain and shackle bound, forged from your gold!
The clutches of the law let go their hold!
 But here, within this heart,
There sits a jury gold can never buy!
Adieu! In art I shall with actors vie;
Insanity 's the play wherein you die!”

 The trial o'er; Luke Scott,
Set free, came down the court-house steps one morn;
Each step one deeper in the people's scorn.
 “Now shall thy carcass rot!”
Cried Phil. “Good citizens, pray stand apart;
I sheathe this dagger in its owner's heart!

 “'T was thus he killed my boy!
My girl 's avenged! Friends, with me do your will,
I'm Philip Moore; no longer ‘Crazy Phil;’
 My madness a decoy!”
And yet no hand would stay, no voice complain;
Nor officer put on the prison chain.
They smiling said: “Perhaps he was insane!”