The Three Hermits

Three old hermits took the air     By a cold and desolate sea,     First was muttering a prayer,     Second rummaged for a flea;     On a windy stone, the third,     Giddy with his hundredth year,     Sang unnoticed like a bird.     Though the Door of Death is near     And what waits behind the door,     Three times in a single day     I, though upright on the shore,     Fall asleep when I should pray.     So the first but now the second,     Were but given what we have earned     When all thoughts and deeds are reckoned     So its plain to be discerned     That the shades of holy men,     Who have failed being weak of will,     Pass the Door of Birth again,     And are plagued by crowds, until     Theyve the passion to escape.     Moaned the other, They are thrown     Into some most fearful shape.     But the second mocked his moan:     They are not changed to anything,     Having loved God once, but maybe,     To a poet or a king     Or a witty lovely lady.     While hed rummaged rags and hair,     Caught and cracked his flea, the third,     Giddy with his hundredth year,     Sang unnoticed like a bird.