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A poem by Jared Barhite

Evil Habits

Title:     Evil Habits
Author: Jared Barhite [More Titles by Barhite]

How habit grows no one e'er knows,
And yet he is a giant
That has a will and subtle skill
That never yet was pliant.

'Tis very plain that he has slain
More than the sword and spear,
With wily art he charms the heart
And quells the greatest fear.

His artful eye is wondrous sly
And has bewitching glance,
Where'er he moves his victim loves
To see his powers advance.

He makes no noise 'mong girls and boys
Whom he would call his own,
His spell is cast, he holds them fast
Till they are overthrown.

When this is done the field is won,
And they are all his own,
He heeds no cry, no choking sigh,
No plea, no prayer, no groan.

If you would be forever free
From tyrant so severe,
Watch every thought before you're caught,
For he is hovering near.

Your every word guard with the sword
Of truth, which never fails,
Its honor's sung in every tongue,
Its power e'er prevails.

Act well your part, and keep your heart
Free from the tares he sows,
For at the end like traitor friend
He leaves you with your woes.

Thus Habit mars with wounds and scars
The favored of our race,
Transforms the mind that God designed
Should be the dwelling place

Of noble thought with heaven fraught
Into a sterile plain,
Whose atmosphere is dank and drear--
A wild chaotic brain.

Man scarce may be entirely free
From wiles and tricks and snares,
Whose stealthy forms and subtle charms
Approach us unawares.

Our eyes are blind or not inclined
To see that powerful hand,
That silently, yet forcibly
Gives us its strong command.

[The end]
Jared Barhite's poem: Evil Habits