The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1878-03-12
A RARE OLD POEM.


To turn hermit and grow good.
He had son, you now must know,
About twelvemonth old or SO;
Him Philip took up In his arms,
To snatch from all female charms,
Intending he should never never know
There were such things as girls below,
But lead an honest hermit's life,
Lest he, likewise, might lose his wife.
The place he chose for his retreat
Was once lions conntry seat,
Far in a wild, romantic wood
The hermit's little cottage stood,
Hid by the trees from human view:
The sun himself could scarce get through.
A little garden, titled with care,
Supplied them with their daily fare
Fresh watercresses from the spring,
Turnips, or greens, or some such thing.
Hermits don't care much what they eat,
And appetite can make 1t sweet
Twas there our little hermit grew
His father taught him all he knew,
Adapting, like cheerful sage,
His lessons to the pupils age.
At five years old he showed him flowers,
Taught him their various names and
powers
Taught him to blow upon reed,
To cay his prayers and get the creed.
AZ ten he lectured him on herbs
(Better than learning nouns and verbs),
The names and qualities of trees,
Manners and customs of the bees
Then talked of oysters full of pearls,
But not one word about the girls.
At fifteen years he turned his eyes
To view the wonder of the skiess
Called all the stars by their right names,
AS you would call on John or James;
And showed him all the signs above,
But not whisper about love.
And now his sixteenth year was nigh,
And yet he had not learned to sigh
Had sleep and appetite to spare;
He could not tell the name of cares
There were such things as girls below.
But now a tempest ragged around,
The hermit's little nest was drowned
Good by, then, to poor Philips crop;
1t did not leave a turnip top.
Poor Philip grieved, and his son too;
They prayed-they knew not what to do
Ifthey were hermit's, they must live,
Aud wolves have not much aims to give.
Now, in his native town he knew
He had disciples-rich ones, too
Who would not let him beg in vain,
But set the hermit up again.
But what to do with his young SON
Pray, tell me, what would you have done
Take him to town he was afraid,
For what If he should see maid
In love, as sure as he had eyes
Then any quantity of sighs
Leave him at home the wolves, the bears
Poor Philip had fathers fears.
In short, he knew not what to do,
But thought, at last, to take him too
And so, with truly pious care,
He counts his beads in anxious prayer,
Intended as sort of charm
To keep his darling lad from harm
That is, from pretty ladies' wiles,
Especially their eyes and smiles;
Then brushed his coat of silver gray;
And now you see them on their way.
1t was town, they all agree,
Where there was everything to see,
AS paintings, statues, and so on,
All that men love to look upon.
Our little lad, you may suppose,
Had never seen SO many shows;
He stands with open mouth and eyes,
Like one just fallen from the skies;
Pointing at everything he sees
"What's this what's that Oh, here
what's these2"
At last he spies charming thing,
That men call angel when they sing
Young lady, when they speak in prose
Sweet thing las everybody knows.
Transported, ravished, at the sight
lie feels strange, but sweet, delight.
"What's this what's this oh, heavensl ,
he cries,
"That looks so sweetly with its eyes;
"Oh, shall catch it 2 is it tame
What is it, father what's it's name y
Poor Philip knew not what to say,
Rut triad IN furn his pvpa awav
He crossed himself and made VOW
"'Tis as feared, all's over now
Then, pr'ythee, have thy wits let loose
1t is bird men call goose"
GA goose o, pretty, pretty thing
And will 1t sing, too, will it sing
o come, come quickly, let us run
THAT'S good father catch me one