Listen (to Hoon read)
Mind in its purest play is like some bat
That beats about in caverns all alone,
Contriving by a kind of senseless wit
Not to conclude against a wall of stone.
It has no need to falter or explore;
Darkly it knows what obstacles are there,
And so may weave and flitter, dip and soar
In perfect courses through the blackest air.
And has this simile a like perfection?
The mind is like a bat. Precisely. Save
That in the very happiest of intellection
A graceful error may correct the cave.
If you’re a teacher, or someone looking for a poem to recommend to some young ‘un, or class, just learning to recite, this is certainly a good one to consider. Humorous, with its made-up word, intellection, it is self-referential, demonstrating in its own intellectual word play, the very moral it wants to convey, the joy of recreational thought. Its mocking, lecturing tone, gives the young reciter a firm idea of a pose to aim-for.
(Bat sounds courtesy of myBelfry.com.)