Fable of Laughter

FROM that quaint ark of old
Leopards a-leaping came,
Gazelles, in joyous game,
Eased from the close-cramped hold,
The stout-legged kangaroo,
And the toad, too.

Tumbled the bear cubs; frisked
The sad sea lions; whisked
Striped zebras in asinine
Clown capers, with hooves and tail,
There in the warm sunshine,
And the slow snail

Lumbered his twisted house
Latest on Ararat,
Eager to join the chat
With hare and whiskered mouse,
So that small Ham and Shem
Laughed loud at them.

The childish laugh rang out
Freely — a curious sound;
The creatures all around
Paused in their play, in doubt
Of what that unknown cry
Might signify.

“Strange!” said the cat, her paw
Curved for a cuff. “What play!”
“Dreadful!” the linnets say.
“What notes unmusical
The man-child’s mouth lets fall!
No song at all!”

The gibbon pondered, hand
On wrinkled forehead; the yak
Shook down his bearded back,
Pursed up his yellow eyes,
Yet none could understand
The child-cries,

Until the serpent, sleek,
Shining, and sinuous,
Spoke to the creatures thus,
Puffing his sophist’s cheek:
“Wisdom I have to tell,
So hearken well!

“Laughter that was. The word
One of my race o’erheard
Back in a Garden dim;
(Man has a secret-wise
Gift of the gods to him!
A gift divine!)

“And hence these strange, profound
Bubbles of breath and sound
The man-child’s mouth doth give —
These but the secret’s sign!
We play, because we live;
Man laughs, because man dies!”

(Thus, with his sophistries,
The snake, half-wise.)