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St. Barbara
By
G. K. Chesterton
Contents
TO
F. C. IN MEMORIAM PALESTINE, ’19.
ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CH=
URCHYARD
TO F. C. IN MEMORIAM
PALESTINE, ’19
Do you remember one im=
mortal
Lost moment=
out
of time and space, What time we thou=
ght,
who passed the portal Of that divine
disastrous place Where Life was sl=
ain
and Truth was slandered On that one holie=
r hill
than Rome, =
How
far abroad our bodies wandered That evening when=
our
souls came home?
The mystic city many-g= ated, With monstrous co= lumns, was your own: Herodian stones f= ell down and waited Two thousand year= s to be your throne. In the grey rocks= the burning blossom Glowed terrible a= s the sacred blood: It was no stranger to your bosom Than bluebells of an English wood.<= o:p>
Do you remember a road=
that
follows The=
way
of unforgotten feet, Where from the wa=
ste of
rocks and hollows Climb up the craw=
ling
crooked street The stages of one
towering drama Always ahead and =
out of
sight ... D=
o you
remember Aceldama And the jackal ba=
rking
in the night?
Life is not void or st=
uff
for scorners: We
have laughed loud and kept our love, We have heard sin=
gers
in tavern corners And not forgotten=
the
birds above: We
have known smiters and sons of thunder And not unworthily
walked with them, We have grown wis=
er and
lost not wonder; And we have seen
Jerusalem.
(St. Barbara is the pa=
tron
saint of artillery and of those in danger of sudden
death.)
When the long grey lin=
es
came flooding upon Paris in the plain, We stood and dran=
k of
the last free air we never could taste again: They had led us b=
ack
from the lost battle, to halt we knew not where And stilled us; a=
nd our
gaping guns were dumb with our despair. The grey tribes f=
lowed
for ever from the infinite lifeless lands And a Norman to a
Breton spoke, his chin upon his hands.
“There was an en=
d to
Ilium; and an end came to Rome; And a man plays o=
n a
painted stage in the land that he calls home; Arch after arch of
triumph, but floor beyond falling floor, That lead to a lo=
w door
at last; and beyond there is no door.”
And the Breton to the =
Norman
spoke, like a small child spoke he, And his sea-blue =
eyes
were empty as his home beside the sea: “There are =
more
windows in one house than there are eyes to see, There are more do=
ors in
a man’s house, but God has hid the key: Ruin is a builder=
of
windows; her legend witnesseth Barbara, the sain=
t of
gunners, and a stay in sudden death.”
It seemed the wheel of=
the
world stood still an instant in its turning, More than the kin=
gs of
the earth that turned with the turning of Valmy mill:=
While trickled th=
e idle
tale and the sea-blue eyes were burning, Still as the hear=
t of a
whirlwind the heart of the world stood still.
“Barbara the beautiful =
Had
praise of lute and pen: =
Her
hair was like a summer night =
Dark
and desired of men.
Her
feet like birds from far away =
That
linger and light in doubt; =
And
her face was like a window =
Where
a man’s first love looked out.
Her
sire was master of many slaves =
A
hard man of his hands; =
They
built a tower about her =
In
the desolate golden lands,
Sealed as the tyrants sealed their tombs, =
Planned
with an ancient plan, =
And
set two windows in the tower =
Like
the two eyes of a man.”
Our guns were set towa=
rd the
foe; we had no word, for firing. Grey in the gatew=
ay of
St. Gond the Guard of the tyrant shone; Dark with the fat=
e of a
falling star, retiring and retiring, The Breton line w=
ent
backward and the Breton tale went on.
“Her father had sailed across=
the
sea =
From
the harbour of Africa =
When
all the slaves took up their tools =
For
the bidding of Barbara.
She
smote the bare wall with her hand =
And
bad them smite again; =
She
poured them wealth of wine and meat =
To
stay them in their pain.
And
cried through the lifted thunder =
Of
thronging hammer and hod =
‘Throw
open the third window =
In
the third name of God.’
Then
the hearts failed and the tools fell, =
And
far towards the foam, =
Men
saw a shadow on the sands =
And
her father coming home.”
Speak low and low, alo=
ng the
line the whispered word is flying Before the touch,
before the time, we may not loose a breath: Their guns must m=
ash us
to the mire and there be no replying, Till the hand is =
raised
to fling us for the final dice to death.
“There were two windows in your tower, =
Barbara,
Barbara, =
For
all between the sun and moon <=
/span> In the
lands of Africa.
Hath
a man three eyes, Barbara, =
A
bird three wings, =
That
you have riven roof and wall =
To
look upon vain things?”
Her
voice was like a wandering thing =
That
falters yet is free, =
Whose
soul has drunk in a distant land =
Of
the rivers of liberty.
“There are more wings than the wind knows =
Or
eyes than see the sun =
In
the light of the lost window =
And
the wind of the doors undone.
For
out of the first lattice =
Are
the red lands that break =
And
out of the second lattice =
Sea
like a green snake,
But
out of the third lattice =
Under
low eaves like wings =
Is
a new corner of the sky =
And
the other side of things.”
It opened in the inmost
place an instant beyond uttering, A casement and a =
chasm
and a thunder of doors undone, A seraph’s =
strong
wing shaken out the shock of its unshuttering, That split the
shattered sunlight from a light behind the sun.
“Then he drew sword and drave her =
Where
the judges sat and said =
‘Caesar
sits above the gods, =
Barbara
the maid.
Caesar hath made a treaty =
With
the moon and with the sun, =
All
the gods that men can praise =
Praise
him every one.
There is peace with the anointed =
Of
the scarlet oils of Bel, =
With
the Fish God, where the whirlpool =
Is
a winding stair to hell,
With
the pathless pyramids of slime, =
Where
the mitred negro lifts =
To
his black cherub in the cloud =
Abominable
gifts,
With
the leprous silver cities =
Where
the dumb priests dance and nod, =
But
not with the three windows =
And
the last name of God.’”
They are firing, we are
falling, and the red skies rend and shiver us, Barbara, Barbara,=
we
may not loose a breath— Be at the bursting
doors of doom, and in the dark deliver us, Who loosen the la=
st
window on the sun of sudden death.
“Barbara the beautiful =
Stood
up as queen set free, =
Whose
mouth is set to a terrible cup =
And
the trumpet of liberty.
‘I have looked forth from a window =
That
no man now shall bar, =
Caesar’s
toppling battle-towers =
Shall
never stretch so far.
The
slaves are dancing in their chains, =
The
child laughs at the rod, =
Because
of the bird of the three wings, =
And
the third face of God.’
The
sword upon his shoulder =
Shifted
and shone and fell, =
And
Barbara lay very small =
And
crumpled like a shell.”
What wall upon what hi=
nges
turned stands open like a door? Too simple for the
sight of faith, too huge for human eyes, What light upon w=
hat
ancient way shines to a far-off floor, The line of the l=
ost
land of France or the plains of Paradise?
“Caesar smiled above the gods, =
His
lip of stone was curled, =
His
iron armies wound like chains =
Round
and round the world,
And
the strong slayer of his own =
That
cut down flesh for grass, =
Smiled
too, and went to his own tower =
Like
a walking tower of brass,
And
the songs ceased and the slaves were dumb; =
And
far towards the foam =
Men
saw a shadow on the sands; =
And
her father coming home....
Blood of his blood upon the sword =
Stood
red but never dry. =
He
wiped it slowly, till the blade =
Was
blue as the blue sky.
But t=
he
blue sky split with a thunder-crack, =
Spat
down a blinding brand, =
And
all of him lay back and flat =
As
his shadow on the sand.”
The touch and the torn=
ado;
all our guns give tongue together St. Barbara for t=
he gunnery
and God defend the right, They are stopped =
and
gapped and battered as we blast away the weather. Building window u=
pon
window to our lady of the light. For the light is =
come
on Liberty, her foes are falling, falling, They are reeling,=
they
are running, as the shameful years have run, She is risen for =
all
the humble, she has heard the conquered calling, St. Barbara of the
Gunners, with her hand upon the gun. They are burst as=
under
in the midst that eat of their own flatteries, Whose lip is curl=
ed to
order as its barbered hair is curled.... Blast of the beau=
ty of
sudden death, St. Barbara of the batteries! That blow the new=
white
window in the wall of all the world.
For the hand is raised
behind us, and the bolt smites hard Through the rendi=
ng of
the doorways, through the death-gap of the Guard=
, For the cry of the
Three Colours is in Condé and beyond And the Guard is =
flung
for carrion in the graveyard of St. Gond, Through Mondemont=
and
out of it, through Morin marsh and on With earthquake of
salutation the impossible thing is gone, Gaul, charioted a=
nd
charging, great Gaul upon a gun, Tip-toe on all her
thousand years and trumpeting to the sun: As day returns, as
death returns, swung backwards and swung home, Back on the barba=
rous
reign returns the battering-ram of Rome. While that that t=
he
east held hard and hot like pincers in a forge, Came like the wes=
t wind
roaring up the cannon of St. George, Where the hunt is=
up
and racing over stream and swamp and tarn And their batteri=
es,
black with battle, hold the bridgeheads of the Marne=
And across the ca=
rnage
of the Guard, by Paris in the plain, The Normans to the
Bretons cried and the Bretons cheered again.... But he that told =
the
tale went home to his house beside the sea And burned before=
St.
Barbara, the light of the windows three, Three candles for=
an
unknown thing, never to come again, That opened like =
the
eye of God on Paris in the plain.
ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCH=
YARD
The men that worked for
England The=
y have
their graves at home: And bees and bird=
s of
England Abo=
ut the
cross can roam.
But they that fought f=
or
England, Following a falli=
ng
star, Alas,=
alas
for England They
have their graves afar.
And they that rule in
England, In
stately conclave met, Alas, alas for En=
gland They have no grav=
es as
yet.
Sunder me from my bone=
s, O
sword of God, Till
they stand stark and strange as do the trees; That I whose hear=
t goes
up with the soaring woods May marvel as muc=
h at
these.
Sunder me from my bloo=
d that
in the dark I
hear that red ancestral river run, Like branching bu=
ried
floods that find the sea But never see the=
sun.
Give me miraculous eye=
s to
see my eyes, Those rolling mir=
rors
made alive in me, Terrible crystal =
more
incredible =
Than
all the things they see.
Sunder me from my soul=
, that
I may see T=
he
sins like streaming wounds, the life’s brave beat; Till I shall save
myself, as I would save A stranger in the
street.
Our God who made two l=
overs
in a garden, And
smote them separate and set them free, Their four eyes w=
ild
for wonder and wrath and pardon And their kiss th=
under
as lips of land and sea: Each rapt unendin=
gly
beyond the other, Two starry worlds=
of
unknown gods at war, Wife and not mate=
, a
man and not a brother, We thank thee tho=
u hast
made us what we are.
Make not the grey slim=
e of
infinity To=
swamp
these flowers thou madest one by one; Let not the night=
that
was thine enemy Mix a mad twiligh=
t of
the moon and sun; Waken again to
thunderclap and clamour The wonder of our
sundering and the song, Or break our hear=
ts
with thine hell-shattering hammer But leave a shade
between us all day long.
Shade of high shame and
honourable blindness When youth, in st=
orm of
dizzy and distant things, Finds the wild wi=
ndfall
of a little kindness And shakes to thi=
nk
that all the world has wings. When the one head=
that
turns the heavens in turning Moves yet as ligh=
tly as
a lingering bird, And red and rando=
m,
blown astray but burning, Like a lost spark=
goes
by the glorious word.
Make not this sex, this
other side of things, A thing less dist=
ant
than the world’s desire; What colour to th=
e end
of evening clings And what far cry =
of
frontiers and what fire Fallen too far be=
yond
the sun for seeking, Let it divide us =
though
our kingdom come; With a far signal=
in
our secret speaking To hang the proud
horizon in our home.
Once we were one, a
shapeless cloud that lingers Loading the seas =
and
shutting out the skies, One with the wood=
s, a
monster of myriad fingers, You laid on me no
finger of surprise. One with the star=
s, a
god with myriad eyes, I saw you nowhere=
and
was blind for scorn: One till the worl=
d was
riven and the rise Of the white days=
when
you and I were born.
Darkens the world: the
world-old fetters rattle; And these that ha=
ve no
hope behind the sun May feed like bon=
dmen
and may breed like cattle, One in the darkne=
ss as
the dead are one; Us if the rended =
grave
give up its glory Trumpets shall su=
mmon
asunder and face to face: We will be strang=
ers in
so strange a story And wonder, meeti=
ng in
so wild a place.
Ah, not in vain or utt=
erly
for loss Co=
me
even the black flag and the battle-hordes, If these grey dev=
ils
flee the sign of the cross Even in the symbo=
l of
the crossing swords. Nor shall death d=
oubt
Who made our souls alive Swords meeting an=
d not
stakes set side by side, Bade us in the su=
nburst
and the thunder thrive Earthquake and Da=
wn;
the bridegroom and the bride.
Death and not dreams or
doubt of things undying, Of whose the holy
hearth or whose the sword; Though sacred spi=
rits
dissever in strong crying Into Thy hands, b=
ut Thy
two hands, O Lord, Though not in Ear=
th as
once in Eden standing So plain again we=
see
Thee what thou art, As in this blaze,=
the
blasting and the branding Of this wild wedd=
ing
where we meet and part.
If sunset clouds could=
grow
on trees It would but match the =
may in
flower; And=
skies
be underneath the seas No topsyturvier t=
han a
shower.
If mountains rose on w=
ings
to wander T=
hey
were no wilder than a cloud; Yet all my praise=
is
mean as slander, Mean as these mean
words spoken aloud.
And never more than no=
w I
know That
man’s first heaven is far behind; Unless the blazing
seraph’s blow Has left him in t=
he
garden blind.
Witness, O Sun that bl=
inds
our eyes, Unthinkable and
unthankable King, That though all o=
ther
wonder dies I
wonder at not wondering.
O learned man who never
learned to learn, Save to deduce, by
timid steps and small, From towering smo=
ke
that fire can never burn And from tall tal=
es
that men were never tall. Say, have you tho=
ught
what manner of man it is Of whom men say
“He could strike giants down”? Or what strong me=
mories
over time’s abyss Bore up the pomp =
of
Camelot and the crown. And why one banne=
r all
the background fills, Beyond the pagean=
ts of
so many spears, And by what witch=
ery in
the western hills A throne stands e=
mpty
for a thousand years. Who hold, unheedi=
ng
this immense impact, Immortal story fo=
r a
mortal sin; Lest
human fable touch historic fact, Chase myths like =
moths,
and fight them with a pin. Take comfort;
rest—there needs not this ado. You shall not be a
myth, I promise you.
(On the Embankment in =
stormy
weather.)
A livid sky on London =
And like iron ste=
eds
that rear A=
shock
of engines halted, And I knew the en=
d was
near: And
something said that far away, over the hills and far away, There came a craw=
ling
thunder and the end of all things here. For London Bridge=
is
broken down, broken down, broken down, As digging lets t=
he
daylight on the sunken streets of yore, The lightning loo=
ked on
London town, the broken bridge of London town, The ending of a b=
roken
road where men shall go no more.
I saw the kings of Lon=
don
town, The k=
ings
that buy and sell, That built it up =
with
penny loaves And
penny lies as well: And where the str=
eets
were paved with gold, the shrivelled paper shone for g=
old, The scorching lig=
ht of
promises that pave the streets of hell. For penny loaves =
will
melt away, melt away, melt away, Mock the mean that
haggled in the grain they did not grow; With hungry faces=
in
the gate, a hundred thousand in the gate, A thunder-flash on
London and the finding of the foe.
I heard the hundred
pin-makers =
Slow
down their racking din, Till in the still=
ness
men could hear The dropping of t=
he
pin: And
somewhere men without the wall, beneath the wood, without the wall, Had found the pla=
ce where
London ends and England can begin. For pins and need=
les
bend and break, bend and break, bend and break, Faster than the
breaking spears or the bending of the bow Of pageants pale =
in
thunder-light, ’twixt thunder-load and thund=
er-light,
The Hundreds
marching on the hills in the wars of long ago.
I saw great Cobbett ri=
ding, The horseman of t=
he
shires; And=
his
face was red with judgment And a light of Lu=
ddite
fires: And =
south
to Sussex and the sea the lights leapt up for liberty, The trumpet of the
yeomanry, the hammer of the squires; For bars of iron =
rust
away, rust away, rust away, Rend before the h=
ammer
and the horseman riding in, Crying that all m=
en at
the last, and at the worst and at the last, Have found the pl=
ace
where England ends and England can begin.
His horse-hoofs go bef=
ore
you, Far be=
yond
your bursting tyres; And time is bridg=
ed
behind him =
And
our sons are with our sires. A trailing meteor=
on
the Downs he rides above the rotting towns, The Horseman of
Apocalypse, the Rider of the Shires. For London Bridge=
is
broken down, broken down, broken down; Blow the horn of
Huntingdon from Scotland to the sea— ... Only a flash =
of
thunder-light, a flying dream of thunder-light, Had shown under t=
he
shattered sky a people that were free.
A wandering world of r=
ivers,
A wavering =
world
of trees, I=
f the
world grow dim and dizzy With all changes =
and
degrees, It=
is
but Our Lady’s mirror Hung dreaming in =
its
place, Shin=
ing
with only shadows Till she wakes it=
with
her face.
The standing whirlpool=
of
the stars, =
The
wheel of all the world, Is a ring on Our
Lady’s finger With the suns and=
moons
empearled With stars for stones to
please her =
Who
sits playing with her rings With the great he=
art
that a woman has And the love of l=
ittle
things.
Wings of the whirlwind=
of
the world F=
rom
here to Ispahan, Spurning the flyi=
ng
forests Are=
light
as Our Lady’s fan: For all things vi=
olent
here and vain Lie
open and all at ease Where God has gir=
ded
heaven to guard Her holy vanities=
.
(With apologies to a
beautiful poem.)
Abou Ben Adhem (may hi=
s tribe
decrease By
cautious birth-control and die in peace) Mellow with learn=
ing
lightly took the word That marked him n=
ot
with them that love the Lord, And told the ange=
l of
the book and pen “Write me a=
s one
that loves his fellow-men: For them alone I labour=
; to
reclaim The
ragged roaming Bedouin and to tame To ordered servic=
e; to
uproot their vine Who mock the Prop=
het,
being mad with wine, Let daylight thro=
ugh
their tents and through their lives, Number their came=
ls,
even count their wives, Plot out the dese=
rt
into streets and squares; And count it a mo=
re
fruitful work than theirs Who lift a vain a=
nd
visionary love To
your vague Allah in the skies above.”
Gently replied the ang=
el of
the pen: “Labour in peace =
and
love your fellow-men: And love not God,=
since
men alone are dear, Only fear God; fo=
r you
have cause to fear.”
When you came over the=
top
of the world In
the great day on the Downs, The air was crisp=
and
the clouds were curled, When you came ove=
r the
top of the world, And under your fe=
et
were spire and street And seven English
towns.
And I could not think =
that
the pride was perished As you came over =
the
down; Liber=
ty,
chivalry, all we cherished, Lost in a rattle =
of
pelf and perished; Or the land we lo=
ve
that you walked above Withering town by=
town.
For you came out on th=
e dome
of the earth Like
a vision of victory, Out on the great =
green
dome of the earth As the great blue=
dome
of the sky for girth, And under your fe=
et the
shires could meet And your eyes wen=
t out
to sea.
Under your feet the to=
wns
were seven, Alive
and alone on high, Your back to the =
broad
white wall of heaven; You were one and =
the
towns were seven, Single and one as=
the
soaring sun And
your head upheld the sky.
And I thought of a
thundering flag unfurled And the roar of t=
he
burghers’ bell: Beacons crackled =
and
bolts were hurled As you came over =
the
top of the world; And under your fe=
et
were chance and cheat And the slime of =
the
slopes of hell.
It has not been as the=
great
wind spoke =
On the
great green down that day: We have seen, whe=
rever
the wide wind spoke, Slavery slaying the English folk: <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The robbers of la=
nd we
have seen command The rulers of land
obey.
We have seen the gigan=
tic
golden worms In
the garden of paradise: We have seen the =
great
and the wise make terms With the peace of
snakes and the pride of worms, and them that pla=
nt
make covenant With the locust a=
nd the
lice.
And the wind blows and=
the
world goes on And
the world can say that we, Who stood on the =
cliffs
where the quarries shone, Stood upon clouds=
that
the sun shone on: And the clouds
dissunder and drown in thunder The news that will
never be.
Lady of all that have =
loved
the people, Light
over roads astray, Maze of steading =
and
street and steeple, Great as a heart =
that has
loved the people: Stand on the crow=
n of
the soaring down, Lift up your arms=
and
pray.
Only you I have not
forgotten F=
or
wreck of the world’s renown, Rending and endin=
g of
things gone rotten, Only the face of =
you
unforgotten: And your head upthrown in the=
skies
alone As yo=
u came
over the down.
Our souls shall be
Leviathans =
In
purple seas of wine When drunkenness =
is
dead with death, And drink is all
divine; Lea=
rning
in those immortal vats What mortal viney=
ards
mean; For o=
nly in
heaven we shall know How happy we have=
been.
Like clouds that wallo=
w in
the wind Be=
free
to drift and drink; Tower without ins=
olence
when we rise, Without surrender=
sink:
Dreams dizz=
y and
crazy we shall know And have no need =
to
write Our
blameless blasphemies of praise, Our nightmares of
delight.
For so in such misshap=
en
shape The v=
ision
came to me, Where
such titanian dolphins dark Roll in a sunset =
sea: Dark with dense
colours, strange and strong As terrible true =
love, Haloed like fish =
in
phospher light The holy monsters=
move.
Measure is here and la=
w, to
learn, When
honour rules it so, To lift the glass=
and
lay it down Or break
the glass and go. But when the
world’s New Deluge boils From the New
Noah’s vine, Our souls shall be
Leviathans =
In
sanguine seas of wine.
FOR
A WAR MEMORIAL
(Suggested Inscription
probably not selected by the Committee.)
The hucksters haggle i=
n the
mart The ca=
rs and
carts go by; Senates and schoo=
ls go
droning on; For
dead things cannot die.
A storm stooped on the=
place
of tombs Wi=
th
bolts to blast and rive; But these be name=
s of
many men The
lightning found alive.
If usurers rule and ri=
ghts
decay And v=
isions
view once more Great Carthage li=
ke a
golden shell Gape
hollow on the shore,
Still to the last of
crumbling time Upon this stone b=
e read
How many me=
n of
England died To
prove they were not dead.
MEMORY<=
span
class=3DHeading1Char>
If I ever go back to
Baltimore, =
The
city of Maryland, I shall miss agai=
n as I
missed before A
thousand things of the world in store, The story standin=
g in
every door =
That
beckons with every hand.
I shall not know where=
the
bonds were riven And a hundred fai=
ths
set free, W=
here a
wandering cavalier had given Her hundredth nam=
e to
the Queen of Heaven, And made oblation=
of
feuds forgiven To
Our Lady of Liberty.
I shall not travel the
tracks of fame Where the war was=
not
to the strong; When Lee the last=
of
the heroes came With the Men of t=
he
South and a flag like flame, And called the la=
nd by
its lovely name In the unforgotten
song.
If ever I cross the se=
a and
stray To th=
e city
of Maryland, I
will sit on a stone and watch or pray For a stranger=
217;s
child that was there one day: And the child will
never come back to play, And no-one will
understand.
Were I that wandering
citizen whose city is the world, I would not weep =
for
all that fell before the flags were furled; I would not let o=
ne
murmur mar the trumpets volleying forth How God grew wear=
y of
the kings, and the cold hell in the north. But we whose hear=
ts are
homing birds have heavier thoughts of home, Though the great =
eagles
burn with gold on Paris or on Rome, Who stand beside =
our
dead and stare, like seers at an eclipse, At the riddle of =
the
island tale and the twilight of the ships.
For these were simple =
men
that loved with hands and feet and eyes, Whose souls were
humbled to the hills and narrowed to the skies, The hundred little
lands within one little land that lie, Where Severn seek=
s the
sunset isles or Sussex scales the sky.
And what is theirs, th=
ough
banners blow on Warsaw risen again, Or ancient laught=
er
walks in gold through the vineyards of Lorraine, Their dead are ma=
rked
on English stones, their loves on English trees, How little is the prize they =
win,
how mean a coin for these— How small a shriv=
elled
laurel-leaf lies crumpled here and curled: They died to save=
their
country and they only saved the world.
The silver and violet
leopard of the night Spotted with star=
s and
smooth with silence sprang; And though three =
doors
stood open, the end of light Closed like a tra=
p; and
stillness was a clang.
Under the leopard sky =
of
lurid stars I
strove with evil sleep the hot night long, Dreams dumb and s=
wollen
of triumphs without wars, Of tongueless tru=
mpet
and unanswering gong.
I saw a pale imperial =
pomp
go by, Helm=
et and
hornèd mitre and heavy wreath; Their high strange
ensigns hung upon the sky And their great s=
hields
were like the doors of death.
Their mitres were as m=
oving
pyramids An=
d all
their crowns as marching towers were tall; Their eyes were c=
old
under their carven lids And the same carv=
en
smile was on them all.
Over a paven plain that
seemed unending They passed unfal=
tering
till it found an end In one long shall=
ow
step; and these descending Fared forth anew =
as
long away to wend.
I thought they travell=
ed for
a thousand years; And at the end was
nothing for them all, For all that sple=
ndour
of sceptres and of spears, But a new step, a=
nother
easy fall.
The smile of stone see=
med
but a little less, The load of silve=
r but
a little more: And ever was that
terraced wilderness And falling plain=
paved
like a palace floor.
Rust red as gore crawl=
ed on
their arms of might And on their faces
wrinkles and not scars: Till the dream su=
ddenly
ended; noise and light Loosened the tyra=
nny of
the tropic stars.
But over them like a s=
ubterranean
sun I saw t=
he
sign of all the fiends that fell; And a wild voice =
cried
“Hasten and be done, Is there no steep=
ness
in the stairs of hell?”
He that returns, He th=
at
remains the same, Turned the round =
real
world, His iron vice; Down the grey gar=
den
paths a bird called twice, And through three=
doors
mysterious daylight came.
When all my days are e=
nding And I have no son=
g to
sing, I thi=
nk I
shall not be too old To stare at every=
thing;
As I stared=
once
at a nursery door Or a tall tree an=
d a
swing.
Wherein God’s
ponderous mercy hangs On all my sins an=
d me, Because He does n=
ot
take away T=
he
terror from the tree And stones still =
shine
along the road That are and cann=
ot be.
Men grow too old for l=
ove,
my love, Me=
n grow
too old for wine, But I shall not g=
row
too old to see Unearthly daylight
shine, Chan=
ging
my chamber’s dust to snow Till I doubt if i=
t be
mine.
Behold, the crowning m=
ercies
melt, The f=
irst
surprises stay; And in my dross is
dropped a gift For which I dare =
not
pray: That =
a man
grow used to grief and joy But not to night =
and
day.
Men grow too old for l=
ove,
my love, Me=
n grow
too old for lies; But I shall not g=
row
too old to see Enormous night ar=
ise, A cloud that is l=
arger
than the world And a monster mad=
e of
eyes.
Nor am I worthy to unl=
oose The latchet of my=
shoe;
Or shake th=
e dust
from off my feet Or the staff that=
bears
me through =
On
ground that is too good to last, Too solid to be t=
rue.
Men grow too old to wo=
o, my
love, Men g=
row
too old to wed: But I shall not g=
row
too old to see Hung crazily over=
head Incredible rafter=
s when
I wake And find I am not dead.
A thrill of thunder in=
my
hair: Though
blackening clouds be plain, Still I am stung =
and
startled By=
the
first drop of the rain: Romance and pride=
and
passion pass And
these are what remain.
Strange crawling carpe=
ts of
the grass, =
Wide
windows of the sky: So in this perilo=
us
grace of God With
all my sins go I: And things grow n=
ew
though I grow old, Though I grow old=
and
die.
If men should rise and
return to the noise and time of the tourney, The name and fame=
of
the tabard, the tangle of gules and gold, Would these things
stand and suffice for the bourne of a backward journ=
ey, A light on our da=
ys
returning, as it was in the days of old?
Nay, there is none rid=
es
back to pick up a glove or a feather, Though the gauntl=
et
rang with honour or the plume was more than a crown=
: And hushed is the=
holy
trumpet that called the nations together And under the Hor=
ns of
Hattin the hope of the world went down.
Ah, not in remembrance
stored, but out of oblivion starting, Because you have =
sought
new homes and all that you sought is so, Because you had t=
rodden
the fire and barred the door in departing, Returns in your c=
hosen
exile the glory of long ago.
Not then when you barr=
ed the
door, not then when you trod the embers, But now, at your =
new
road’s end, you have seen the face of a fate, That not as a chi=
ld
looks back, and not as a fool remembers, All that men took=
too
lightly and all that they love too late.
It is you that have ma=
de no
rubric for saints, no raiment for lovers, Your caps that cr=
y for
a feather, your roofs that sigh for a spire: Is it a dream fro=
m the
dead if your own decay discovers Alive in your rotting
graveyard the worm of the world’s desire?
Therefore the old trees
tower, that the green trees grow and are stunt=
ed: Therefore these d=
ead
men mock you, that you the living are dead: Since ever you ba=
ttered
the saints and the tools of your crafts were blunt=
ed, Or shattered the =
glass
in its glory and loaded yourselves with the lead.=
When the usurer hunts =
the
squire as the squire has hunted the peasant, As sheep that are=
eaten
of worms where men were eaten of sheep: Now is the judgme=
nt of
earth, and the weighing of past and present, Who scorn to weep=
over
ruins, behold your ruin and weep.
Have ye not known, ye =
fools,
that have made the present a prison, That thirst can
remember water and hunger remember bread? We went not gathe=
ring
ghosts; but the shriek of your shame is arisen Out of your own b=
lack
Babel too loud; and it woke the dead.
POLAND<=
span
class=3DHeading1Char>
Augurs that watched ar=
chaic
birds Such
plumèd prodigies might read, The eagles that w=
ere
double-faced, The
eagle that was black indeed; And when the
battle-birds went down And in their trac=
k the
vultures come, We
know what pardon and what peace Will keep our lit=
tle
masters dumb.
The men that sell what
others make, As
vultures eat what others slay, Will prove in mat=
ching
plume with plume That naught is bl=
ack
and all is grey; Grey as those din=
gy
doves that once, By money-changers
palmed and priced, Amid the crash of=
tables
flapped And
huddled from the wrath of Christ.
But raised for ever fo=
r a
sign Since =
God
made anger glorious, Where eagles blac=
k and
vultures grey Flocked back abou=
t the
heroic house, Where war is holi=
er
than peace, Where
hate is holier than love, Shone terrible as=
the
Holy Ghost =
An
eagle whiter than a dove.
When we went hunting t=
he
Dragon In t=
he
days when we were young, We tossed the bri=
ght
world over our shoulder As bugle and bald=
rick
slung; Neve=
r was
world so wild and fair As what went by o=
n the
wind, Never=
such
fields of paradise As the fields we =
left
behind: For t=
his is
the best of a rest for men That =
men
should rise and ride Makin=
g a
flying fairyland Of ma=
rket
and country-side, Wings=
on
the cottage, wings on the wood, Wings=
upon
pot and pan, For t=
he
hunting of the Dragon That =
is the
life of a man.
For men grow weary of
fairyland W=
hen
the Dragon is a dream, And tire of the t=
alking
bird in the tree, The singing fish =
in the
stream; And=
the
wandering stars grow stale, grow stale, And the wonder is=
stiff
with scorn; For
this is the honour of fairyland And the following=
of
the horn;
Beauty on =
beauty
called us back When =
we
could rise and ride, And a=
woman
looked out of every window As
wonderful as a bride: And t=
he
tavern-sign as a tabard blazed, And t=
he
children cheered and ran, For t=
he
love of the hate of the Dragon That =
is the
pride of a man.
The sages called him a
shadow And =
the
light went out of the sun: And the wise men =
told
us that all was well And all was weary=
and
one: And th=
en,
and then, in the quiet garden, With never a weed=
to
kill, We kn=
ew
that his shining tail had shone In the white road=
over
the hill: W=
e knew
that the clouds were flakes of flame, We knew that the =
sunset
fire Was re=
d with
the blood of the Dragon Whose death is the
world’s desire.
For the ho=
rn was
blown in the heart of the night That =
men
should rise and ride, Keepi=
ng the
tryst of a terrible jest Never=
for
long untried; Drink=
ing a
dreadful blood for wine, Never=
in
cup or can, The death of a
deathless Dragon, That =
is the
life of a man.
SONNET<=
span
class=3DHeading1Char>
High on the wall that =
holds
Jerusalem I=
saw
one stand under the stars like stone. And when I perish=
it
shall not be known Whether he lived,=
some
strolling son of Shem, Or was some great=
ghost
wearing the diadem Of Solomon or Sal=
adin
on a throne: I
only know, the features being unshown, I did not dare dr=
aw
near and look on them.
Did ye not guess ... t=
he
diadem might be Plaited in strang=
er
style by hands of hate ... But when I looked=
, the
wall was desolate And the grey star=
light
powdered tower and tree: And vast and vague
beyond the Golden Gate Heaved Moab of the
mountains like a sea.
The happy men that lose
their heads They
find their heads in heaven, As cherub heads w=
ith
cherub wings, And
cherub haloes even: Out of the infini=
te
evening lands Along the sunset =
sea, Leaving the purple
fields behind, The cherub wings =
beat
down the wind Back to the gropi=
ng
body and blind As
the bird back to the tree.
Whether the plumes be
passion-red For
him that truly dies By headsmen’=
;s
blade or battle-axe, Or blue like
butterflies, For
him that lost it in a lane In April’s =
fits
and starts, His
folly is forgiven then: But higher, and f=
ar
beyond our ken, Is the healing of=
the
unhappy men, The
men that lost their hearts.
Is there not pardon fo=
r the
brave And b=
road
release above, Who lost their he=
ads
for liberty Or
lost their hearts for love? Or is the wise ma=
n wise
indeed Whom
larger thoughts keep whole? Who sees life equ=
al
like a chart, Made strong to pl=
ay the
saner part, And
keep his head and keep his heart, And only lose his=
soul.
(The Chief Constable h=
as
issued a statement declaring that carol singing in =
the
streets by children is illegal, and morally and physically
injurious. He appeals to the public to discourage the practice.R=
12;Daily
Paper.)
God rest you merry
gentlemen, =
Let
nothing you dismay; The Herald Angels
cannot sing, The
cops arrest them on the wing, And warn them of =
the
docketing Of
anything they say.
God rest you merry
gentlemen, =
May
nothing you dismay: On your reposeful
cities lie =
Deep
silence, broken only by The motor horn=
217;s
melodious cry, The hooter’s
happy bray.
So, when the song of
children ceased And Herod was obe=
yed, In his high hall
Corinthian =
With
purple and with peacock fan, Rested that merry
gentleman; =
And
nothing him dismayed.
Trampled yet red is th=
e last
of the embers, Red the last clou=
d of a
sun that has set; What of your slee=
ping
though Flanders remembers, What of your waki=
ng, if
England forget?
Why should you share i=
n the
hearts that we harden, In the shame of o=
ur
nature, who see it and live? How more than the=
godly
the greedy can pardon, How well and how
quickly the hungry forgive.
Ah, well if the soil o=
f the
stranger had wrapped you, While the lords t=
hat
you served and the friends that you knew Hawk in the marts=
of
the tyrants that trapped you, Tout in the shops=
of
the butchers that slew.
Why should you wake fo=
r a
realm that is rotten, Stuffed with their
bribes and as dead to their debts? Sleep and forget =
us, as
we have forgotten; For Flanders reme=
mbers
and England forgets.
To every Man his Myste=
ry, A trade and only =
one: The masons make t=
he
hives of men, The
domes of grey or dun, But we have wroug=
ht in
rose and gold The
houses of the sun.
The shipwrights build =
the
houses high, Whose green found=
ations
sway Alive =
with
fish like little flames, When the wind goe=
s out
to slay. Bu=
t we
abide with painted sails The cyclone of th=
e day.
The weavers make the c=
lothes
of men And =
coats
for everyone; They walk the str=
eets
like sunset clouds; But we have woven=
and
spun In sca=
rlet
or in golden-green The gay coats of =
the
sun.
You whom the usurers a=
nd the
lords With
insolent liveries trod, Deep in dark chur=
ch
behold, above Their lance-lengt=
hs by
a rod, Wher=
e we
have blazed the tabard Of the trumpeter =
of
God.
II. THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS=
span>
In the world’s w=
hitest
morning As =
hoary
with hope, =
The
Builder of Bridges Was priest and was
pope: And t=
he
mitre of mystery And the canopy hi=
s, Who darkened the =
chasms
And domed t=
he
abyss.
To eastward and westwa=
rd Spread wings at h=
is
word The ar=
ch
with the key-stone That stoops like a
bird; That =
rides
the wild air And
the daylight cast under; The highway of da=
nger, The gateway of wo=
nder.
Of his throne were the
thunders Th=
at
rivet and fix Wild weddings of
strangers T=
hat
meet and not mix; The town and the
cornland; T=
he
bride and the groom: In the breaking of
bridges Is
treason and doom.
But he bade us, who fa=
shion The road that can=
fly, That we build not=
too
heavy And b=
uild
not too high: Seeing alway that=
under
The dark
arch’s bend Shine death and w=
hite
daylight Unchanged to the =
end.
Who walk on his mercy =
Walk light, as he
saith, Seei=
ng
that our life Is
a bridge above death; And the world and=
its
gardens And
hills, as ye heard, Are born above sp=
ace On the wings of a=
bird.
Not high and not heavy=
Is building of hi=
s: When ye seal up t=
he
flood And f=
orget
the abyss, =
When
your towers are uplifted, Your banners unfu=
rled, In the breaking of
bridges Is =
the
end of the world.
We have graven the mou=
ntain
of God with hands, As our hands were
graven of God, they say, Where the seraphs=
burn
in the sun like brands And the devils ca=
rry
the rains away; Making a thrift o=
f the
throats of hell, Our gargoyles gat=
her
the roaring rain, Whose yawn is mor=
e than
a frozen yell And
their very vomiting not in vain.
Wilder than all that a
tongue can utter, Wiser than all th=
at is
told in words, The wings of ston=
e of
the soaring gutter Fly out and follo=
w the
flight of the birds; The rush and rout=
of
the angel wars Stand out above the astounded
street, Whe=
re we
flung our gutters against the stars For a sign that t=
he
first and the last shall meet.
We have graven the for=
est of
heaven with hands, Being great with a
mirth too gross for pride, In the stone that
battered him Stephen stands And Peter himself=
is
petrified: =
Such
hands as have grubbed in the glebe for bread Have bidden the b=
lank
rock blossom and thrive, Such hands as have
stricken a live man dead Have struck, and =
stricken
the dead alive.
Fold your hands before
heaven in praying, Lift up your hand=
s into
heaven and cry; But look where our
dizziest spires are saying What the hands of=
a man
did up in the sky: Drenched before y=
ou
have heard the thunder, White before you =
have
felt the snow; For the giants li=
ft up
their hands to wonder How high the hand=
s of a
man could go.
The angels are singing=
like
birds in a tree In the organ of g=
ood
St. Cecily: And
the parson reads with his hand upon The graven eagle =
of
great St. John: But never the flu=
ted
pipes shall go Like the fifes of=
an
army all a-row, Merrily marching =
down
the street =
To the
marts where the busy and idle meet; And never the bra=
zen
bird shall fly Out of the window=
and
into the sky, Till men in citie=
s and
shires and ships Look up at the li=
ving
Apocalypse.
But all can hark at th=
e dark
of even The=
bells
that bay like the hounds of heaven, Tolling and telli=
ng that
over and under, In the ways of th=
e air
like a wandering thunder, The hunt is up ov=
er
hills untrod: For
the wind is the way of the dogs of God: From the tyrant=
8217;s
tower to the outlaw’s den Hunting the souls=
of
the sons of men. Ruler and robber =
and
pedlar and peer, Who will not hark=
en and
yet will hear; Filling men’=
;s
heads with the hurry and hum Making them welco=
me
before they come.
And we poor men stand =
under
the steeple Drawing the cords=
that
can draw the people, And in our leash =
like
the leaping dogs Are God’s m=
ost
deafening demagogues: And we are but li=
ttle,
like dwarfs underground, While hang up in =
heaven
the houses of sound, Moving like mount=
ains
that faith sets free, Yawning like cave=
rns
that roar with the sea, As awfully loaded=
, as
airily buoyed, Armoured archange=
ls
that trample the void: Wild as with danc=
ing
and weighty with dooms, Heavy as their pa=
noply,
light as their plumes.
Neither preacher nor p=
riest
are we: Eac=
h man
mount to his own degree: Only remember tha=
t just
such a cord Tosses in heaven =
the
trumpet and sword; Souls on their
terraces, saints on their towers, Rise up in arms at
alarum like ours: Glow like great
watchfires that redden the skies Titans whose wing=
s are
a glory of eyes, Crowned constella=
tions
by twelves and by sevens, Domed dominations=
more
old than the heavens, Virtues that thun=
der
and thrones that endure Sway like a bell =
to the
prayers of the poor.
After one moment when I
bowed my head And
the whole world turned over and came upright, And I came out wh=
ere
the old road shone white, I walked the ways=
and
heard what all men said, Forests of tongue=
s,
like autumn leaves unshed, Being not unlovab=
le but
strange and light; Old riddles and n=
ew
creeds, not in despite But softly, as men
smile about the dead.
The sages have a hundr=
ed
maps to give That
trace their crawling cosmos like a tree, They rattle reaso=
n out
through many a sieve That stores the s=
and
and lets the gold go free: And all these thi=
ngs
are less than dust to me Because my name is
Lazarus and I live.
Form 991785, Sub-Secti=
on D
The Roman threw us a r=
oad, a
road, And s=
ighed
and strolled away: The Saxon gave us=
a
raid, a raid, A
raid that came to stay; The Dane went wes=
t, but
the Dane confessed That he went a bi=
t too
far; And we=
all
became, by another name, The Imperial race=
we
are.
Chorus
The Imperial race, the
inscrutable race, The invincible ra=
ce we
are.
Though Sussex hills are
bare, are bare, And Sussex weald =
is
wide, From
Chichester to Chester Men saw the Norman
ride; He threw his sword in t=
he air
and sang To=
a
sort of a light guitar; It was all the sa=
me,
for we all became The identical nob=
s we
are.
Chorus
The identical nobs,
individual nobs Unmistakable nobs=
we
are.
The people lived on the
land, the land, They pottered abo=
ut and
prayed; They
built a cathedral here and there Or went on a small
crusade: Ti=
ll the
bones of Becket were bundled out For the fun of a =
fat
White Czar, And
we all became, in spoil and flame, The intelligent l=
ot we
are.
Chorus
The intelligent lot, t=
he
intuitive lot, The infallible lo=
t we
are.
O Warwick woods are gr=
een,
are green, =
But
Warwick trees can fall: And Birmingham gr=
ew so
big, so big, And
Stratford stayed so small. Till the hooter h=
owled
to the morning lark That sang to the
morning star; And
we all became, in freedom’s name, The fortunate cha=
ps we
are.
Chorus
The fortunate chaps,
felicitous chaps, The fairy-like ch=
aps we
are.
The people they left t=
he
land, the land, But they went on
working hard; And
the village green that had got mislaid Turned up in the
squire’s back-yard: But twenty men of=
us
all got work On a
bit of his motor car; And we all became=
, with
the world’s acclaim, The marvellous mu=
gs we
are:
Chorus
The marvellous mugs,
miraculous mugs, The mystical mugs=
we
are.
SONGS OF EDUCATION:
Form 17955301, Sub-Sec=
tion Z
The earth is a place on
which England is found, And you find it h=
owever
you twirl the globe round; For the spots are=
all
red and the rest is all grey, And that is the m=
eaning
of Empire Day.
Gibraltar’s a ro=
ck
that you see very plain, And attached to i=
ts
base is the district of Spain. And the island of=
Malta
is marked further on, Where some native=
s were
known as the Knights of St. John. Then Cyprus, and =
east
to the Suez Canal, That was conquere=
d by
Dizzy and Rothschild his pal With the Sword of=
the
Lord in the old English way; And that is the m=
eaning
of Empire Day.
Our principal imports =
come
far as Cape Horn; For necessities, =
cocoa;
for luxuries, corn; Thus Brahmins are=
born
for the rice-field, and thus, The Gods made the
Greeks to grow currants for us; Tobacco and petro=
l and
Jazzing and Jews: The Jazzing will =
pass
but the Jews they will stay; And that is the m=
eaning
of Empire Day.
Our principal exports,=
all
labelled and packed, At the ends of th=
e earth
are delivered intact: Our soap or our s=
almon
can travel in tins Between the two p=
oles
and as like as two pins; So that Lancashire
merchants whenever they like Can water the bee=
r of a
man in Klondike Or poison the mea=
t of a
man in Bombay; And that is the m=
eaning
of Empire Day.
The day of St. George =
is a
musty affair Which Russians and
Greeks are permitted to share; The day of Trafal=
gar is
Spanish in name And the Spaniards
refuse to pronounce it the same; But the Day of the
Empire from Canada came With Morden and B=
orden
and Beaverbrook’s fame And saintly serap=
hical
souls such as they: And that is the m=
eaning
of Empire Day.
Form 8277059, Sub-Sect=
ion K
I remember my mother, =
the
day that we met, A thing I shall n=
ever
entirely forget; And I toy with the
fancy that, young as I am, I should know her=
again
if we met in a tram. But m=
other
is happy in turning a crank That
increases the balance at somebody’s bank; And I=
feel
satisfaction that mother is free From =
the
sinister task of attending to me.
They have brightened o=
ur
room, that is spacious and cool, With diagrams use=
d in
the Idiot School, And Books for the=
Blind
that will teach us to see; But mother is hap=
py,
for mother is free. For m=
other
is dancing up forty-eight floors, For l=
ove of
the Leeds International Stores, And t=
he
flame of that faith might perhaps have grown cold, With =
the
care of a baby of seven weeks old.
For mother is happy in
greasing a wheel For somebody else=
, who
is cornering Steel; And though our one
meeting was not very long, She took the occa=
sion
to sing me this song: ̶=
0;O,
hush thee, my baby, the time soon will come When =
thy
sleep will be broken with hooting and hum; There=
are
handles want turning and turning all day, And k=
nobs
to be pressed in the usual way;
O, hush thee, my baby,=
take
rest while I croon, For Progress comes
early, and Freedom too soon.”
Form 8889512, Sub-Sect=
ion Q
How slowly learns the =
child
at school T=
he
names of all the nobs that rule From Ponsonby to
Pennant; Er=
e his
bewildered mind find rest, Knowing his host =
can be
a Guest, His
landlord is a Tennant.
He knew not, at the ag=
e of
three, What=
Lord
St. Leger next will be Or what he was be=
fore; A Primrose in the
social swim A Mr.
Primrose is to him, And he is nothing=
more.
But soon, about the ag=
e of
ten, He fin=
ds he
is a Citizen, And
knows his way about; Can pause within,=
or
just beyond, The
line ’twixt Mond and Demi-Mond, ’Twixt Gett=
ing
On—or Out.
The Citizen will take =
his
share (In e=
very
sense) as bull and bear; Nor need this oral ditty Invoke the philol=
ogic
pen To show=
you
that a Citizen Means Something i=
n the
City.
Thus gains he, with the
virile gown, The
fasces and the civic crown, The forum of the =
free; Not more to
Rome’s high law allied Is Devonport in a=
ll his
pride Or
Lipton’s self than he.
For he will learn, if =
he
will try, T=
he
deep interior truths whereby We rule the
Commonwealth; What is the
Food-Controller’s fee And whether the H=
ealth
Ministry Are in it for their health.
Form 339125, Sub-Secti=
on M
=
Twice one is two, =
Twice
two is four, But
twice two is ninety-six if you know the way to score. =
Half
of two is one, =
Half of four is two, But half of four =
is
forty per cent. if your name is Montagu: For
everything else is on the square If do=
ne by
the best quadratics; And n=
othing
is low in High Finance Or the
Higher Mathematics.
=
A straight line is straight =
And
a square mile is flat: But you learn in
trigonometrics a trick worth two of that. =
Two
straight lines =
Can’t
enclose a Space, But they can encl=
ose a
Corner to support the Chosen Race: For y=
ou
never know what Dynamics do With =
the
lower truths of Statics; And h=
alf of
two is a touring car In the
Higher Mathematics.
=
There is a place apart =
Beyond
the solar ray, Where parallel st=
raight
lines can meet in an unofficial way. =
There
is a room that holds =
The
examiner or his clerks, Where you can squ=
are
the circle or the man that gives the marks. Where=
you
hide in the cellar and then look down On the
poets that live in the attics; For t=
he
whole of the house is upside down In the
Higher Mathematics.
Form 394411102, Sub-Se=
ction
X
“All practical
Eugenists are agreed on the importance of sleep.”R=
12;The
Eugenic Congress.
When Science taught mankind to brea=
the A little while ag=
o, Only a wise and
thoughtful few Were really in the
know: Nor c=
ould
the Youth his features wreathe, Puffing from all =
the
lungs beneath: When Duty whisper=
ed
softly “Breathe!” The Youth would a=
nswer
“Blow!”
When Science proved wi=
th
lucid care =
The
need of Exercise, Our thoughtless Y=
outh
was climbing trees Or lightly blacki=
ng
eyes: To re=
ckless
idlers breaking bounds For football or f=
or
hare-and-hounds, Or fighting hard =
for
fourteen rounds, It came as a surp=
rise.
But when she boldly co=
unsels
Sleep To pe=
rsons
when in bed, Then, then indeed=
men
blush to see The
daybreak blushing red: The early risers =
whom
we term Hea=
lthy,
grow sickly and infirm; The Early Bird who
caught the Worm Will catch the Ge=
rm
instead.
For this at least be S=
cience
praised If =
all
the rest be rot, That now she snub=
s the
priggish child That quits too so=
on his
cot: The ph=
arisaic
pachyderm Of
spiritual pride shall squirm: The Early Bird ca=
tches
the worm, T=
he
Worm that dieth not.