So various

You may have met a man -- quite young --

A brisk-eyed youth, and highly strung:

One whose desires

And inner fires

Moved him as wires.

And you may have met one stiff and old,

If not in years; of manner cold;

Whos seemed as stone,

And never had known

Of mirth or moun.

And there may have crossed your path a lover,

In whose clear depths you could discover

A staunch, robust,

And tender trust,

Through storm and gust.

And you may have also known one fickle,

Whose fancies changed as the silver sickle

Of yonder moon,

Which shapes so soon

To demilune!

You entertained a person once

Whom you internally deemed a dunce: -

As he sat in view

Just facing you

You saw him through.

You came to know a learned seer.

Of whom you read the surface mere:

Your soul quite sank;

Brain of such rank

Dubbed yours a blank.

Anon you quizzed a man of sadness,

Who never could have known true gladness

Just for a whim

You pitied him

In his sore trim

You journeyed with a man so glad

You never could conceive him sad:

He proved to be

Indubitably

Good company.

You lit on an un adventurous slow man

Who, said you, need be feared by no man;

That his slack deeds

And sloth must needs

Produce but weeds.

A man of enterprise, shrewd and swift,

Who never suffered affairs to drift,

You eyed for a time

Just in his prime,

And judged he might climb.

You smoked beside one who forgot

All that you said, or grasped it not.

Quite a poor thing

Not worth a sting

By satirizing!

Next year you nearly lost for ever

Goodwill from one who forgot slights never;

And, with unease,

Felt you must seize

Occasion to please...

Now... All these specimens of man,

So various in their pith and plan,

Curious to say

Were one man. Yea,

I was all they.