Classic Poem

Human nature's human nature.
There's no change,
Whatso'er the nomenclature,
If you range

Back to Eden and its Adam.
Everywhere,
Though in skins or silks you clad'em,
Dark or fair,
You will find the same great passions
Primitive;
Find recurring tailors' fashions
That will live,
As they've lived from the beginning,
Ages hence.

No new-fangled mode of sinning,
Penitence,
Penance, punishment, or pleasure
Livens earth;
We cannot increase the measure
Of our mirth.
There is no new form of sorrow,
No new pain;
As to-day, mankind to-morrow
Will remain.

Those old Pilgrims, stern and formal,
Had their faults;
Some were peevish, some abnormal,
The assaults
Of the fiendish adversary
On their souls
Often smote them when unwary.
Flowing bowls
Of hot flip or fragrant toddy
Made some reel;
Charm of too seductive body
Melted seal
On strict vows not safely guarded;
Virtue's white
For a rose-red vice discarded
Lost its right.

Some through thought becoming doubters,
Heretics,
Boldly called themselves " Come-outers, "
Would not mix
With the faithful they berated.
Such were tried,
Punished, excommunicated,
Were denied
Name of citizen and banished.
Visions bright
Of those days forever vanished
Fill the sight
When the telescope of history,
Magic-glassed,
Is turned back towards the mystery