Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!
Get Your Premium Membership

The New Freethinker

 John Grubby who was short and stout 
And troubled with religious doubt, 
Refused about the age of three 
To sit upon the curate's knee; 
(For so the eternal strife must rage 
Between the spirit of the age 
And Dogma, which, as is well known, 
Does simply hate to be outgrown).
Grubby, the young idea that shoots, Outgrew the ages like old boots; While still, to all appearance, small, Would have no Miracles at all; And just before the age of ten Firmly refused Free Will to men.
The altars reeled, the heavens shook, Just as he read of in the book; Flung from his house went forth the youth Alone with tempests and the Truth.
Up to the distant city and dim Where his papa had bought for him A partnership in Chepe and Deer Worth, say twelve hundred pounds a year.
But he was resolute.
Lord Brute Had found him useful; and Lord Loot, With whom few other men would act, Valued his promptitude and tact; Never did even philanthrophy Enrich a man more rapidly: 'Twas he that stopped the Strike in Coal, For hungry children racked his soul; To end their misery there and then He filled the mines with Chinamen Sat in that House that broke the Kings, And voted for all sorts of things -- And rose from Under-Sec.
to Sec.
With scarce a murmur or a check.
Some grumbled.
Growlers who gave less Than generous worship to success, The little printers in Dundee, Who got ten years for blasphemy, (Although he let them off with seven) Respect him rather less than heaven.
No matter.
This can still be said: Never to supernatural dread Never to unseen deity, Did Sir John Grubby bend the knee; Nor was he bribed by fabled bliss To kneel to any world but this.
The curate lives in Camden Town, His lap still empty of renown, And still across the waste of years John Grubby, in the House of Peers, Faces that curate, proud and free, And never sits upon his knee.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - The New FreethinkerEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...

Top G K Chesterton Poems

Analysis and Comments on The New Freethinker

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The New Freethinker here.