Read "Theophilus" by Edwin Arlington Robinson online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
BY what serene malevolence of names
Had you the gift of yours, Theophilus?
Not even a smeared young Cyclops at his games
Would have you long, - and you are one of us.
Told of your deeds I shudder for your dream
And they, no doubt, are few and innocent.
Meanwhile, I marvel; for in you, it seems, / Heredity outshines environment.
What lingering bit of Belial, unforeseen, / Survives and amplifies itself in you?
What manner of devilry has ever been
That your obliquity may never do?
Humility befits a father's eyes, / But not a friend of us would have him weep.
Admiring everything that lives and dies,
Theophilus, we like you best asleep.
Sleep - sleep; and let us find another man
To lend another name less hazardous:
Caligula, maybe, or Caliban, / Or Cain, - but surely not Theophilus.