Prophets at Home

Prophets have honour all over the Earth,
  Except in the village where they were born,
Where such as knew them boys from birth
  Nature-ally hold 'em in scorn. 

When Prophets are naughty and young and vain, 
  They make a won'erful grievance of it;
(You can see by their writings how they complain),
  But O, 'tis won'erful good for the Prophet!

There's nothing Nineveh Town can give
  (Nor being swallowed by whales between),
Makes up for the place where a man's folk live,
  Which don't care nothing what he has been.
He might ha' been that, or he might ha' been this,
But they love and they hate him for what he is.

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Pro Tem

1 
Make we a fire in the dark 
   Numb flesh to warm,
A little flame, a spark 
   How shall it harm?
2 
There is light on your face and mine—
   The shades retire—
Our arms meet and entwine
   Around the fire,
        Our flickering wind blown fire.
3 
With store of burr and weed 
   Up-pile it higher!
What tho' the bared arm bleed, 
   The muscle tire!
        Feed it—a rising fire!
4 
The night is red with flame—
   Our lips creep nigher—
Your eyes have rendered tame
   The white hot fire,
        The passionate full fire!
5 
It holds smooth, time-worn stakes
   Set up to shew
How far when Tempest wakes 
   The tide shall go—
        It leaps and lays them low!
     
     
      *        *        *        * 
     
6      
The light ash smoulders fast, 
   The sparks expire,
Lo! all the heat is past
   From out our fire—
        Our sudden wondrous fire. 
7 
The ground lies blistered, bare—
   The starlight dies.
Dawn comes to shew you there
   Against the skies,
        With dull smoke reddened eyes.
8 
Burnt branches—split and charred—
   I place my hand
Upon them—It is hard
   To understand
That these made once our fire, 
        Our fierce and driving fire.
9 
Burnt flowers—once white and red 
   Dead buds unborn—
The rose's purer head
   With vetch uptorn—
        The lily with the thorn.
10 
The dew damp scarf, the gem
   Set deep in gold—
Your garment's broidered hem
   Sore stained with mould—
        The cup you could not hold.
11 
We gave our hearts' best store, 
   Our richest prize—
Remaineth nothing more
   To sacrifice—
        Nought precious in our eyes!

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Private Ortheris’s Song

My girl, she give me the go onest,
  When I was a London lad;
An’ I went on the drink for a fortnight,
   An’ then I went to the bad.
The Queen she give me a shillin’
  To fight for ’er over the seas;
But Guv’ment built me a fever-trap,
   An’ Injia give me disease.
(Chorus)   Ho! don’t you ’eed what a girl says,
                  An’ don’t you go for the beer;
              But I was an ass when I was at grass,
                  An’ that is why I’m ’ere.

I fired a shot at a Afghan,
  The beggar ’e fired again,
An’ I lay on my bed with a ’ole in my ’ed,
   An’ missed the next campaign!
I up with my gun at a Burman
  Who carried a bloomin’ dah,
But the cartridge stuck and the bay’nit bruk,
  An’ all I got was the scar.
(Chorus)   Ho! don’t you aim at a Afghan,
                  When you stand on the skyline clear;
             An’ don’t you go for a Burman
                   If none o’ your friends is near.

I served my time for a Corp’ral,
   An’ wetted my stripes with pop,
For I went on the bend with a intimate friend,
   An’ finished the night in the “shop.”
I served my time for a Sergeant;
  The Colonel ’e sez “No!
The most you’ll see is a full C.B.”
          An’ . . . very next night ’twas so!
(Chorus)    Ho! don’t you go for a Corp’ral
                  Unless your ’ed is clear;
             But I was an ass when I was at grass,
                  An’ that is why I’m ’ere.

I’ve tasted the luck o’ the Army
   In barrack an’ camp an’ clink,
An’ I lost my tip through the bloomin’ trip
   Along o’ the women an’ drink.
I’m down at the heel o’ my service,
  An’ when I am laid on the shelf,
My very worst friend from beginning to end
  By the blood of a mouse was myself!
(Chorus)   Ho! don’t you ’eed what a girl says,
                  An’ don’t you go for the beer;
             But I was an ass when I was at grass,
                  An’ that is why I’m ’ere!

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Prelude

I have eaten your bread and salt.
I have drunk your water and wine.
The deaths ye died I have watched beside,
And the lives ye led were mine. 

Was there aught that I did not share 
In vigil or toil or ease–
One joy or woe that I did not know,
Dear hearts across the seas?  

I have written the tale of our life 
For a sheltered people's mirth,
In jesting guise–but ye are wise,
And ye know what the jest is worth.

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Preface

To all to whom this little book may come—
    Health for yourselves and those you hold most dear!
 Content abroad, and happiness at home,
    And—one grand secret in your private ear:—
    Nations have passed away and left no traces,
 And History gives the naked cause of it—
    One single, simple reason in all cases;
 They fell because their peoples were not fit. 

Now, though your Body be mis-shapen, blind,
     Lame, feverish, lacking substance, power or skill,
 Certain it is that men can school the Mind
    To school the sickliest Body to her will—
    As many have done, whose glory blazes still
 Like mighty flames in meanest lanterns lit:
    Wherefore, we pray the crippled, weak and ill—
Be fit—be fit! In mind at first be fit! 

And, though your Spirit seem uncouth or small,
    Stubborn as clay or shifting as the sand,
 Strengthen the Body, and the Body shall
    Strengthen the Spirit till she take command;
    As a bold rider brings his horse in hand
 At the tall fence, with voice and heel and bit,
    And leaps while all the field are at a stand.
 Be fit—be fit! In body next be fit! 

        Nothing on earth—no Arts, no Gifts, nor Graces—
        No Fame, no Wealth—outweighs the want of it.
        This is the Law which every law embraces—
        Be fit—be fit! In mind and body be fit!

The even heart that seldom slurs its beat—
    The cool head weighing what that heart desires—
The measuring eye that guides the hands and feet—
    The Soul unbroken when the Body tires—
    These are the things our weary world requires
Far more than superfluities of wit;
    Wherefore we pray you, sons of generous sires,
Be fit—be fit! For Honour’s sake be fit.

        There is one lesson at all Times and Places—
        One changeless Truth on all things changing writ,
        For boys and girls, men, women, nations, races—
        Be fit—be fit! And once again, be fit!

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Possibilities

1 
Ay, lay him ’neath the Simla pine—
   A fortnight fully to be missed,
   Behold, we lose our fourth at whist,
A chair is vacant where we dine. 
2
His place forgets him; other men
  Have bought his ponies, guns, and traps.
  His fortune is the Great Perhaps
And that cool rest-house down the glen, 
3
Whence he shall hear, as spirits may,
  Our mundane revel on the height,
  Shall watch each flashing ’rickshaw-light
Sweep on to dinner, dance, and play. 
4
Benmore shall woo him to the ball
  With lighted rooms and braying band;
  And he shall hear and understand
“Dream Faces” better than us all. 
5
For, think you, as the vapours flee
  Across Sanjaolie after rain,
  His soul may climb the hill again
To each old field of victory. 
6
Unseen, who women held so dear,
  The strong man’s yearning to his kind
  Shall shake at most the window-blind,
Or dull awhile the card-room’s cheer. 
7
In his own place of power unknown,
  His Light o’ Love another’s flame,
  His dearest pony galloped lame,
And he an alien and alone! 
8
Yet may he meet with many a friend–
  Shrewd shadows, lingering long unseen
  Among us when “God save the Queen”
Shows even “extras” have an end. 
9
And, when we leave the heated room,
  And, when at four the lights expire,
  The crew shall gather round the fire
And mock our laughter in the gloom; 
10
Talk as we talked, and they ere death–
  Flirt wanly, dance in ghostly-wise,
  With ghosts of tunes for melodies,
And vanish at the morning's breath.

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Poseidon’s Law

1 
When the robust and Brass-bound Man commissioned first for sea 
His fragile raft, Poseidon laughed, and "Mariner", said he,
"Behold, a Law immutable I lay on thee and thine,
That never shall ye act or tell a falsehood at my shrine.
2 
"Let Zeus adjudge your landward kin whose votive meal and salt
At easy-cheated altars win oblivion for the fault,
But you the unhoodwinked wave shall test–the immediate gulf condemn–
Except ye owe the Fates a jest, be slow to jest with them. 
3 
"Ye shall not clear by Greekly speech, nor cozen from your path 
The twinkling shoal, the leeward beach, or Hadria's white-lipped wrath;
Nor tempt with painted cloth for wood my fraud-avenging hosts;
Nor make at all, or all make good, your bulwarks and your boasts. 
4 
"Now and henceforward serve unshod, through wet and wakeful shifts,
A present and oppressive God, but take, to aid, my gifts– 
The wide and windward-opening eye, the large and lavish hand, 
The soul that cannot tell a lie–except upon the land!" 
5 
In dromond and in catafract–wet, wakeful, windward-eyed–
He kept Poseidon's Law intact (his ship and freight beside),
But, once discharged the dromond's hold, the bireme beached once more,
Splendaciously mendacious rolled the Brass-bound Man ashore....  
6 
The thranite now and thalamite are pressures low and high,
And where three hundred blades bit white the twin-propellers ply.
The God that hailed, the keel that sailed are changed beyond recall,
But the robust and Brass-bound Man he is not changed at all!  
7 
From Punt returned, from Phormio's Fleet, from Javan and Gadire,
He strongly occupies the seat about the tavern fire,
And, moist with much Falernian or smoked Massilian juice,
Revenges there the Brass-bound Man his long-enforced truce!

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Poor Honest Men

1 
Your jar of Virginny
Will cost you a guinea,
Which you reckon too much by five shillings or ten;
But light your churchwarden
And judge it according,
When I've told you the troubles of poor honest men.
2 
From the Capes of the Delaware,
As you are well aware,
We sail with tobacco for England—but then,
Our own British cruisers,
They watch us come through, sirs,
And they press half a score of us poor honest men!
3 
Or if by quick sailing
(Thick weather prevailing)
We leave them behind (as we do now and then)
We are sure of a gun from
Each frigate we run from,
Which is often destruction to poor honest men!
4 
Broadsides the Atlantic
We tumble short-handed,
With shot-holes to plug and new canvas to bend;
And off the Azores,
Dutch, Dons and Monsieurs
Are waiting to terrify poor honest men.
5 
Napoleon's embargo
Is laid on all cargo
Which comfort or aid to King George may intend;
And since roll, twist and leaf,
Of all comforts is chief,
They try for to steal it from poor honest men!
6 
With no heart for fight,
We take refuge in flight,
But fire as we run, our retreat to defend;
Until our stern-chasers
Cut up her fore-braces,
And she flies off the wind from us poor honest men!
7 
'Twix' the Forties and Fifties,
South-eastward the drift is,
And so, when we think we are making Land's End
Alas, it is Ushant   
With half the King's Navy
Blockading French ports against poor honest men!
8 
But they may not quit station
(Which is our salvation)
So swiftly we stand to the Nor'ard again;
And finding the tail of
A homeward-bound convoy,    
We slip past the Scillies like poor honest men.
9 
'Twix' the Lizard and Dover,
We hand our stuff over,
Though I may not inform how we do it, nor when.
But a light on each quarter,
Low down on the water,
Is well understanded by poor honest men.
10 
Even then we have dangers,
From meddlesome strangers,
Who spy on our business and are not content
To take a smooth answer,
Except with a handspike...
And they say they are murdered by poor honest men!
11 
To be drowned or be shot
Is our natural lot,
Why should we, moreover, be hanged in the end–
After all our great pains
For to dangle in chains
As though we were smugglers, not poor honest men?

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Poison of Asps

“Poison of asps is under our lips”?
    Why do you seek us, then?
Breaking our knotted fellowships
    With your noisy-footed men? 

Time and time over we let them go;
    Hearing and slipping aside;
Until they followed and troubled us—so
    We struck back, and they died. 

“Poison of asps is under our lips”?
    Why do you wrench them apart?
To learn how the venom makes and drips
    And works its way to the heart? 

It is unjust that when we have done
    All that a serpent should,
You gather our poisons, one by one,
    And thin them out to your good. 

“Poison of asps is under our lips.”
    That is your answer? No!
Because we hissed at Adam’s eclipse
    Is the reason you hate us so.

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Pink Dominoes

artist • Dudley Cleaver (1872-1957) • Departmental Ditties 1886 • W. Thacker & Co • Internet Archive

1 
Jenny and Me were engaged, you see,
On the eve of the Fancy Ball; 
So a kiss or two was nothing to you 
Or any one else at all.
2
Jenny would go in a domino–
Pretty and pink but warm;
While I attended, clad in a splendid
Austrian uniform. 
3
Now we had arranged, through notes exchanged
Early that afternoon, 
At Number Four to waltz no more, 
But to sit in the dark and spoon.
4
[I want you to see that Jenny and Me
Had barely exchanged our troth;
So a kiss or two was strictly due
By, from, and between us both.]
5
When Three was over, an eager lover,
I fled to the gloom outside;
And a Domino came out also
Whom I took for my future bride.
6
That is to say, in a casual way,
I slipped my arm around her;
With a kiss or two (which is nothing to you),
And ready to kiss I found her.
7
She turned her head and the name she said
Was certainly not my own;
But ere I could speak, with a smothered shriek
She fled and left me alone.
8
Then Jenny came, and I saw with shame
She'd doffed her domino;
And I had embraced an alien waist
But I did not tell her so.
9
Next morn I knew that there were two
Dominoes pink, and one
Had cloaked the spouse of Sir Julian Vouse,
Our big Political gun.
10
Sir J. was old, and her hair was gold,
And her eye was a blue cerulean;
And the name she said when she turned her head
Was not in the least like "Julian".
11
Now wasn't it nice, when want of pice
Forbade us twain to marry,
That old Sir J., in the kindest way, 
Made me his Secretarry? 

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