An Unreformable Reformer

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An Unreformable Reformer

I know not how they come about⁠—

These alterations in our spelling,

But sometimes am disposed to doubt

The efficacy of compelling

(As still is done to one in school

By threatening to whack or twist him)

Observance of an iron rule

Despite one’s better private system.

For when the sinner’s freed from fear

He spells, as formerly, by ear.

That’s what I have observed, but much

By that, I fear, is not decided

Against the iron hand (whose touch

May none experience, as I did)

For under this White House regime

Condemning every silent letter,

This is the motto, it would seem:

“Who spells by ear spells all the better.”

If that is what these pranks entail,

Executive Compulsion, hail!

God grant I know not envy nor,

When chatting over cup and saucer,

Betray my secret hunger for

The high renown of Geoffrey Chaucer.

Yet now at last I seem to see

My way to equal approbation:

When I’m as hard to read as he

Phonetes of that far generation

Will study me and say: “How grand!⁠—

So difficult to understand!”

The President, the President!⁠—

How enterprising in revision

Of Nature’s laws!⁠—how diligent

In cutting out a court decision!⁠—

How sedulous the stars to woo

And keep the seasons rightly going!

Ah, seldom we remember who

Establishes the time of sowing

And reaping, makes the harvest good,

And a great man of Leonard Wood.

This world is variously bad,

And mad as hares in January

(’Tis later that the hares are mad,

But similes and seasons vary)

And Presidents have much to do

To keep the March of Mind a-walking,

To level up the birth rate, to

Pain William Chandler⁠—all by talking.

O Father Adam, how you must

Rejoice that both your ears are dust!