To Oscar Wilde Poem by Ambrose Bierce

Because from Folly's lips you got
Some babbled mandate to subdue
The realm of Common Sense, and you
Made promise and considered not

Because you strike a random blow
At what you do not understand,
And beckon with a friendly hand
To something that you do not know,

I hold no speech of your desert,
Nor answer with porrected shield
The wooden weapon that you wield,
But meet you with a cast of dirt.

Dispute with such a thing as you
Twin show to the two-headed calf?
Why, sir, if I repress my laugh,
'T is more than half the world can do.