Page:Posthumous poems (IA posthumousswinb00swin).pdf/223

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DISGUST
 
Zephaniah Stockdolloger's gospel—a word that deserves to endure
Infinite millions on millions of infinite Æons to come—
"Vocation," says he, "is vocation, and duty duty. Some."

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And duty, said I, distinctly points out—and vocation, said he,
Demands as distinctly—that I should kill you, and that you should kill me.
The reason is obvious—we cannot exist without creeds—who can?
So we went to the chemist's—a highly respectable church-going man—
And bought two packets of poison. You wouldn't have done so?—Wait,
It's evident, Providence is not with you, ma'am, the same thing as Fate.
Unconscious cerebration educes God from a fog,
But spell God backwards, what then? Give it up? the answer is, dog.
(I don't exactly see how this last verse is to scan,
But that's a consideration I leave to the secular man.)

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