Archives: Poems

1 
When the flush of the new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold,
A Lying Spirit sat under the Tree and sang, 'New Lamps for Old!' 
And Adam waked from his mighty sleep, and Eve was at his side, 
And the twain had faith in the song that they heard, and knew not the Spirit lied.
2 
They plucked a lamp from the Eden-tree (the ancient legend saith), 
And lighted themselves the Path of Toil that runs to the Gate of Death;
They left the lamp for the joy of their sons, and that was a glorious gain,
When the Spirit cried, 'New Lamps for Old!' in the ear of the branded Cain.
3 
So he gat fresh hope, and builded a town, and watched his breed increase,
Till Tubal lighted the Lamp of War from the flickering Lamp of Peace;
And ever they fought with fire and sword and travailed in hate and fear,
As the Spirit sang, 'New Lamps for Old!' at the change of the changing year.
4 
They sought new lamps in the Morning-red, they sought new lamps in the West,
Till the waters covered the pitiful land and the heart of the world had rest
Had rest with the Rain of the Forty Days, but the Ark rode safe above, 
And the Spirit cried, 'New Lamps for Old!' when Noah loosened the Dove.
5 
And some say now that the Eden-tree had never a root on earth; 
And some say now from an eyeless eft our Father Adam had birth; 
And some say now there was never an Ark and never a God to save; 
And some say now that Man is a God, and some say Man is a slave;
6 
And some build altars East and West, and some build North and South;
And some bow down to the Work of the Hand and some to the Word of the Mouth.
But wheresoever a heart may beat or a hand reach forth to hold, 
The Spirit comes with the coming year, and cries, 'New Lamps for Old!'
7 
And the sons of Adam leave their toil who are cursed with the Curse of Hope,
And hang the profitless past in a noose of the thundering belfry's rope, 
And tear the branch from the laurel-bush with feastings manifold, 
When the cry goes up to the scornful stars, 'New Lamps! New Lamps for Old!'
8 
Though all the lamps that ever were lit have winked at the world for years,
The sons of Adam crowd the streets with laughter and sighs and tears; 
For they hold that new, strange lamps shall shine to guide their feet aright,
And they turn their eyes to the scornful stars and stretch their arms to the night.
9 
And the Spirit gives them the Lamp of War that burns at the cannon-lip,
As it blazed on the point of Tubal's blade and the prow of the battleship;
And the Lamp of Love that was Eve's to snatch from Lilith under the Tree;
And the Lamp of Fame that is old as Strife and dim as Memory;
10 
And the Lamp of Faith that was won from Job, and of Shame that was wrung from Cain;
And the Lamp of Youth that was Adam's once, and the cold blue Lamp of Pain;
And last is the terrible Lamp of Hope that every man must bear,
Lest he find his peace ere the day of his death by the light of the Lamp Despair.
11 
We know that the Eden Lamp is lost,—if ever were Eden made,
And the ink of the Schools in the Lamp of Faith has sunk a world in the shade;
But ever we look for a light that is new, and ever the Spirit cries,
'New Lamps for Old!' and we take the lamps, and—behold, the Spirit lies!

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The man that is open of heart to his neighbour, 
   And stops to consider his likes and dislikes, 
His blood shall be wholesome whatever his labour, 
    His luck shall be with him whatever he strikes. 
The Splendour of Morning shall duly possess him, 
   That he may not be sad at the falling of eve. 
And, when he has done with mere living—God bless him! 
   A many shall sigh, and one Woman shall grieve!—
 

But he that is costive of soul toward his fellow, 
   Through the ways, and the works, and the woes of this life, 
Him food shall not fatten, him drink shall not mellow; 
   And his innards shall brew him perpetual strife. 
His eye shall be blind to God’s Glory above him; 
   His ear shall be deaf to Earth’s Laughter around; 
His Friends and his Club and his Dog shall not love him; 
   And his Widow shall skip when he goes under ground!

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                 PRIMITIVE 

I ate my fill of a whale that died
  And stranded after a month at sea.
There is a pain in my inside.
  Why have the Gods afflicted me?
Ow! I am purged till I am a wraith!
  Wow! I am sick till I cannot see!
What is the sense of Religion and Faith?
  Look how the Gods have afflicted me! 

                      PAGAN

How can the skin of rat or mouse hold
  Anything more than a harmless flea?  
The burning plague has taken my household.
  Why have my Gods afflicted me?
All my kith and kin are deceased,
  Though they were as good as good could be,
I will out and batter the family priest,
  Because my Gods have afflicted me! 

                   MEDIÆVAL
              
My privy and well drain into each other
  After the custom of Christendie...
Fevers and fluxes are wasting my mother.
  Why has the Lord afflicted me?
The Saints are helpless for all I offer—
  So are the clergy I used to fee.
Henceforward I keep my cash in my coffer,
  Because the Lord has afflicted me. 

                   MATERIAL

I run eight hundred hens to the acre
  They die by dozens mysteriously.
I am more than doubtful concerning my Maker.
   Why has the Lord afflicted me?
What a return for all my endeavour
   Not to mention the L.S.D!
I am an atheist now and for ever,
   Because this God has afflicted me! 

                   PROGRESSIVE

Money spent on an Army or Fleet
  Is homicidal lunacy...
My son has been killed in the Mons retreat,
  Why is the Lord afflicting me?
Why are murder, pillage and arson
  And rape allowed by the Deity?
I will write to the Times, deriding our parson
  Because my God has afflicted me. 

                      CHORUS

We had a kettle: we let it leak:
  Our not repairing it made it worse.
We haven’t had any tea for a week... 
  The bottom is out of the Universe! 

                  CONCLUSION

This was none of the good Lord’s pleasure,
  For the Spirit He breathed in Man is free;
But what comes after is measure for measure,
  And not a God that afflicteth thee. 

As was the sowing so the reaping
  Is now and evermore shall be.
Thou art delivered to thine own keeping
  Only Thyself hath afflicted thee! 

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1 
My new-cut ashlar takes the light 
   Where crimson-blank the windows flare
By my own work before the night, 
   Great Overseer, I make my prayer. 
2 
If there be good in that I wrought 
   Thy Hand compelled it, Master, Thine–
Where I have failed to meet Thy Thought
    I know, through Thee, the blame was mine. 
3 
One instant's toil to Thee denied 
   Stands all Eternity's offence. 
Of that I did with Thee to guide, 
   To Thee, through Thee, be excellence. 
4 
The depth and dream of my desire, 
   The bitter paths wherein I stray–
Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,
   Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay. 
5 
Who, lest all thought of Eden fade,
   Bring'st Eden to the craftsman's brain–
Godlike to muse o'er his own Trade
   And manlike stand with God again! 
6 
One stone the more swings into place 
   In that dread Temple of Thy worth. 
It is enough that, through Thy Grace. 
   I saw nought common on Thy Earth. 
7 
Take not that vision from my ken–
   Oh whatsoe'er may spoil or speed.
Help me to need no aid from men
   That I may help such men as need!

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There are four good legs to my Father's Chair– 
Priests and People and Lords and Crown.
I sits on all of  'em fair and square,
And that is reason it don't break down.

I won't trust one leg, nor two, nor three,
To carry my weight when I sets me down.
I wants all four of  'em under me–
Priests and People and Lords and Crown.

I sits on all four and favours none–
Priests, nor People, nor Lords, nor Crown:
And I never tilts in my chair, my son,
And that is the reason it don't break down.

When your time comes to sit in my Chair,
Remember your Father's habits and rules,
Sit on all four legs, fair and square,
And never be tempted by one-legged stools!

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 ... In the name of common sense, let the mothers of our families—
they are ... the greatest offenders— sing songs that may be 
'understanded of the people', ditties dealing with the conditions 
under which we of the East live and work. Here is my scheme, 
imperfect as yet, for the regeneration of after-dinner music.

I propose to publish, by subscription, a series of Songs 
entitled "Music for the Middle-aged"... I would not, at first, turn 
our mature warblers too suddenly from the beaten paths wherein they 
are wont to travel. The Form of their songs shall be respected, but the 
Spirit altered, and I flatter myself improved in the altering, to perfect
harmony with our everyday life.

Take for instance Tennyson's 'Maud' referred to above.
Give her the true local colour, and behold the result:—

        Come under the Punkah, Maud,
        For the air is devoid of ozone,
        And the scent of the brick-kilns is wafted abroad,
        And the germs of infection are blown,
        Are daily dispersed o'er our bed and our board,
        From the huts that our nauker-log own.

Here is something which we can all understand and appreciate. 
'Twickenham Ferry' again, adapted to Eastern exigencies, would obviously run:—

        JuldeeAo! JuldeeAo! To the Simla dak gharri,
        The fever's about, and the glass going up.
        So send in for leave, and no longer we'll tarry,
        And by eight in the even at Simla we'll sup.
        JuldeeAo! (ad lib.) 

No one will be prepared to deny that the open vowels of this refrain are 
infinitely preferable to the senseless 'Yo-ho-o' of the original,
inasmuch as they convey a meaning patent to any griffin who has 
been in the country twenty minutes.

Once more, I submit that all the pathos of parting, experienced by the older 
members of the community, is compressed into the following lines:-

        In the spring time, Oh my husband,
        When the heat is rising fast,
        When the coolie softly pulling
        Puddles but a burning blast,
        When the skies are lurid yellow,
        When our rooms are 'ninety-three',
        It were best to leave you, ducky,—
        Rough on you, but best for me. 

When the world come to admit—as it will—the excellence of 
my system, I make no doubt that there will arise a race of virile 
poets, owning no allegiance to, drawing no inspiration from,
Western thought, who will weave for the drawing-room of the 
future, songs as distinctly sui generis as an overland trunk of a 
solah topee, and breathing in every word the luxuriant imagery
and abundant wealth of expression peculiar to the East...
    
     ('Jacob Cavendish', Civil and Military Gazette 21 June 1884)

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"Why is my District death-rate low?"
 Said Binks of Hezabad.
"Well, drains, and sewage-outfalls are
"My own peculiar fad.
"I learnt a lesson once, It ran
"Thus," quoth that most veracious man:–

1 
It was an August evening and, in snowy garments clad,
I paid a round of visits in the lines of Hezabad;
When, presently, my Waler saw, and did not like at all,
A Commissariat elephant careering down the Mall.
2
I couldn't see the driver, and across my mind it rushed
That that Commissariat elephant had suddenly gone musth.
I didn't care to meet him, and I couldn't well get down,
So I let the Waler have it, and we headed for the town.
3
The buggy was a new one and, praise Dykes, it stood the strain,
Till the Waler jumped a bullock just above the City Drain;
And the next that I remember was a hurricane of squeals,
And the creature making toothpicks of my five-foot patent wheels.
4
He seemed to want the owner, so I fled, distraught with fear,
To the Main Drain sewage-outfall while he snorted in my ear–
Reached the four-foot drain-head safely and, in darkness and despair,
Felt the brute's proboscis fingering my terror-stiffened hair.
5
Heard it trumpet on my shoulder–tried to crawl a little higher–
Found the Main Drain sewage outfall blocked, some eight feet up, with mire;
And, for twenty reeking minutes, Sir, my very marrow froze,
While the trunk was feeling blindly for a purchase on my toes!
6
It missed me by a fraction, but my hair was turning grey
Before they called the drivers up and dragged the brute away.
Then I sought the City Elders, and my words were very plain.
They flushed that four-foot drain-head and–it never choked again!
7
You may hold with surface-drainage, and the sun-for-garbage cure,
Till you've been a periwinkle shrinking coyly up a sewer.
I believe in well-flushed culverts .... This is why the death-rate's small;
And, if you don't believe me, get shikarred yourself. That's all.


musth - mad
shikarred - hunted

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1 
The fear was on the cattle, for the gale was on the sea, 
And the pens broke up on the lower deck an’ let the creatures free—
An’ the lights went out on the lower deck, an’ no one near but me. 
2 
I had been singin’ to them to keep ’em quiet there,
For the lower deck is the dangerousest, requirin’ constant care,
An’ give to me as the strongest man, though used to drink and swear. 
3 
I see my chance was certain of bein’ horned or trod,
For the lower deck was packed with steers thicker’n peas in a pod,
An’ more pens broke at every roll—so I made a Contract with God. 
4 
An’ by the terms of the Contract, as I have read the same,
If He got me to port alive I would exalt His Name,
An’ praise His Holy Majesty till further orders came. 
5 
He saved me from the cattle an’ He saved me from the sea,
For they found me ’tween two drownded ones where the roll had landed me—
An’ a four-inch crack on top of my head, as crazy as could be. 
6 
But that were done by a stanchion, an’ not by a bullock at all,
An’ I lay still for seven weeks convalessing of the fall,
An’ readin’ the shiny Scripture texts in the Seaman’s Hospital. 
7 
An’ I spoke to God of our Contract, an’ He says to my prayer:
“I never puts on My ministers no more than they can bear.
“So back you go to the cattle-boats an’ preach My Gospel there. 
8 
“For human life is chancy at any kind of trade,
“But most of all, as well you know, when the steers are mad-afraid;
“So you go back to the cattle-boats an’ preach ’em as I’ve said. 
9 
“They must quit drinkin’ an’ swearin’, they mustn’t knife on a blow,
“They must quit gamblin’ their wages, and you must preach it so;
“For now those boats are more like Hell than anything else I know.” 
10 
I didn’t want to do it, for I knew what I should get,
An’ I wanted to preach Religion, handsome an’ out of the wet,
But the Word of the Lord were lain on me, an’ I done what I was set. 
11 
I have been smit an’ bruisèd, as warned would be the case,
An’ turned my cheek to the smiter exactly as Scripture says;
But following that, I knocked him down an’ led him up to Grace. 
12 
An’ we have preaching on Sundays whenever the sea is calm,
An’ I use no knife or pistol an’ I never take no harm,
For the Lord abideth back of me to guide my fighting arm. 
13 
An’ I sign for four-pound-ten a month and save the money clear,
An’ I am in charge of the lower deck, an’ I never lose a steer;
An’ I believe in Almighty God an’ preach His Gospel here. 
14 
The skippers say I’m crazy, but I can prove ’em wrong,
For I am in charge of the lower deck with all that doth belong—
Which they would not give to a lunatic, and the competition so strong!

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