THE POWER OF THE DOG

THE POWER OF THE DOG

There is sorrow enough in the natural way

From men and women to fill our day;

And when we are certain of sorrow in store,

Why do we always arrange for more?

Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware

Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

 

Buy a pup and your money will buy

Love unflinching that cannot lie-

Perfect passion and worship fed

By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.

Nevertheless it is hardly fair

To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits

Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,

And the vet's unspoken prescription runs

To lethal chambers or loaded guns,

Then you will find-it's your own affair-

But...you've given your heart for a dog to tear.

 

When the body that lived at your single will,

With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!);

When the spirit that answered your every mood

Is gone-wherever it goes-for good,

You will discover how much you care,

And will give your heart for the dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,

When it comes to burying Christian clay.

Our loves are not given, but only lent,

At compound interest of cent per cent.

Though it is not always the case, I believe,

That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:

For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,

A short-time loan is as bad as a long-

So why in Heaven (before we are there)

Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

 

                                     Rudyard Kipling

CHEER

CHEER

It's a mighty good world, so it is, dear lass,

When even the worst is said.

There's a smile and a tear, a sigh and a cheer,

But better be living than dead;

A joy and a pain, a loss and a gain;

There's honey and may be some gall:

Yet still I declare, foul weather or fair,

It's a mighty good world after all.

For look, lass! at night when I break from the fight,

My Kingdom's awaiting for me;

There's comfort and rest, and the warmth of your breast,

And little ones climbing my knee.

There's fire-light and song - Oh, the world may be wrong!

Its empires may topple and fall:

My home is my care - if gladness be there,

It's a mighty good world after all.

O heart of pure gold! I have made you a fold,

It's sheltered, sun-fondled and warm.

O little ones, rest! I have fashioned a nest;

Sleep on! you are safe from the storm.

For there's no foe like fear, and there's no friend like cheer,

And sunshine will flash at our call;

So crown Love as King, and let us all sing -

"It's a mighty good world after all."

                                        Robert Service

PRIVACY

PRIVACY

Oh you who are shy of the popular eye,

(Though most of us seek to survive it),

Just think of the goldfish who wanted to die

Because she could never be private.

There are pebbles and reeds for aquarium needs

Of eel and of pike who are bold fish;

But who gives a thought to a sheltering spot

For the sensitive soul of a goldfish?

So the poor little thing swam around in a ring,

In a globe of a crystalline crudity;

Swam round and swam round, but no refuge she found

From the public display of her nudity;

No weedy retreat for a cloister discreet,

From the eye of the mob to exempt her;

Can you wonder she paled, and her appetite failed,

Till even a fly couldn't tempt her?

I watched with dismay as she faded away;

Each day she grew slimmer and slimmer.

From an amber that burned, to a silver she turned

Then swiftly was dimmer and dimmer.

No longer she gleamed, like a spectre she seemed,

One morning I anxiously sought her:

I only could stare - she no longer was there . . .

She'd simply dissolved in the water.

So when you behold bright fishes of gold,

In globes of immaculate purity;

Just think how they'd be more contented and free

If you gave them a little obscurity.

And you who make laws, get busy because

You can brighten the lives of untold fish,

If its sadness you note, and a measure promote

To Ensure Private Life For The Goldfish.

                                         Robert Service

THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS

THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS

OFT, in the stilly night,

Ere slumber's chain has bound me,

Fond Memory brings the light

Of other days around me:

The smiles, the tears

Of boyhood's years,

The words of love then spoken;

The eyes that shone,

Now dimm'd and gone,

The cheerful hearts now broken!

Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere slumber's chain has bound me,

Sad Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

When I remember all

The friends, so link'd together,

I've seen around me fall

Like leaves in wintry weather,

I feel like one

Who treads alone

Some banquet-hall deserted,

Whose lights are fled,

Whose garlands dead,

And all but he departed!

Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere slumber's chain has bound me.

Sad Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

                                       Thomas Moore 1779 - 1852

 

 

 

MY LADY'S LAW

MY LADY’S LAW

The Law whereby my lady moves

Was never Law to me,

But 'tis enough that she approves

Whatever Law it be.

For in that Law, and by that Law,

My constant course I'll steer;

Not that I heed or deem it dread,

But that she holds it dear.

Tho' Asia sent for my content

Her richest argosies,

Those would I spurn, and bid return,

If that should give her ease.

With equal heart I'd watch depart

Each spiced sail from sight;

Sans bitterness, desiring less

Great gear than her delight.

Though Kings made swift with many a gift

My proven sword to hire-

I would not go nor serve 'em so-

Except at her desire.

With even mind, I'd put behind

Adventure and acclaim,

And clean give o'er, esteeming more

Her favour than my fame.

Yet such am I, yea, such am I-

Sore bond and freest free,

The Law that sways my lady's ways

Is mystery to me!

                                Rudyard Kipling

OUT OF THE HITHERWHERE

OUT  OF  THE  HITHERWHERE

Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon -

The land that the Lord's love rests upon,

Where one may rely on the friends he meets,

And the smiles that greet him along the streets,

Where the mother that left you years ago

Will lift the hands that were folded so,

And put them about you, with all the love

And tenderness you are dreaming of.

 

Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon -

Where all of the friends of your youth have gone -

Where the old schoolmate that laughed with you

Will laugh again as he used to do,

Running to meet you, with such a face

As lights like a moon the wondrous place

Where God is living, and glad to live

Since He is the Master and may forgive.

 

Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon -

Stay the hopes we are leaning on -

You, Divine, with Your merciful eyes

Looking down from the far-away skies,

Smile upon us, and reach and take

Our worn souls Home for the old home's sake -

And so, Amen - for our all seems gone

Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon.

 

                                   James Whitcomb Riley