I KNOW a wondrous man — my neighbor he;
He’ s ripe in years, and great in understanding.
He’ s versed in art, and in philosophy
He shows a mind that’ s verily commanding.
He’ ll stand before a painting, and without
A single instant’ s thought, or hesitation,
He’ ll tell the painter’ s name, nor any doubt
Is there he gives the proper information.
The rocks, the hills and valleys, hold from him
No secret that is past a man’ s revealing.
He knows why some are stout and others slim;
He comprehends all kinds of human feeling.
The records of the stars he knows, and each
Romance that round about the heavens lingers.
At dinner-time he oft delights to preach
On which was made the first, or forks or fingers.
Indeed, all things he knows, or high or low —
The things that fly on wing, or go a-walking —
Except one thing he never seems to know,
And that’ s when he should stop his endless talking.