Topic: The Gods of the Copybook Headings

[Pandora]

"AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!"

Author?  (NO Goggling!)

[AmericanPatriot]

Rudyard Kipling?

[trapeze]

I was pretty sure that that was the answer.

[Libertas]

Aye, a classic...probably not taught in any classroom in America since...well, probably a long long time ago...

Would even a Lit major be aware of it today, or are they too busy reading angry black literature or feminist swill?

Too bad, it has an Ayn Rand kind of message to it and combined with the well written prose I think it would find popularity today, at least among those who are literate and somewhat intelligent...

ETA -

I found this link of his works, check it out.

I like these two -


The Veterans
 Written for the  Gathering of  Survivors the  Indian Mutiny, Albert Hall, 1907

To-day, across our fathers' graves,
  The astonished  years reveal
The remnant of that desperate host
  Which cleansed our East with steel.

Hail and farewell! We greet you here,
  With tears that none will scorn--
O Keepers of the House of old,
  Or ever we were born!

One service more we dare to ask--
  Pray for us, heroes, pray,
That when Fate lays on us our task
  We do not shame the Day!



When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted
 1892,  L'Envoi To "The Seven Seas"

When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried,
When the oldest colours have faded, and the youngest critic has died,
We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it -- lie down for an aeon or two,
Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall put us to work anew.
And those that were good shall be happy; they shall sit in a golden chair;
They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets' hair.
They shall find real saints to draw from -- Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;
They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all!

And only The Master shall praise us, and only The Master shall blame;
Andd no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame,
But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They are!

[AlanS]

Great reads all.

[fordguy_85]

Good stuff for sure

[Weisshaupt]

Sarah Hoyt just annotated this poem with Hyperlinks..

[Libertas]

OK, the "pig had wings" linked to Hillary and the re-emegence of Monica Lewinski...   

Peace/nobel, bwuuhaahaa.

Work or die/labor force participation rate, brilliant!

It just goes on and on...

These are good!