INCURABLE.

By Ambrose Bierce

From pride, joy, hate, greed, melancholy —

From any kind of vice, or folly,

Bias, propensity or passion

That is in prevalence and fashion,

Save one, the sufferer or lover

May, by the grace of God, recover:

Alone that spiritual tetter,

The zeal to make creation better,

Glows still immedicably warmer.

Who knows of a reformed reformer?