Written by
T S (Thomas Stearns) Eliot |
Similiter et omnes revereantur Diaconos, ut mandatum Jesu Christi; et Episcopum, ut
Jesum Christum, existentem filium Patris; Presbyteros autem, ut concilium Dei et
conjunctionem Apostolorum. Sine his Ecclesia non vocatur; de quibus suadeo vos sic
habeo.
S. Ignatii Ad Trallianos.
And when this epistle is read among you, cause that it be read also in the church of
the Laodiceans.
THE BROAD-BACKED hippopotamus
Rests on his belly in the mud;
Although he seems so firm to us
He is merely flesh and blood.
Flesh and blood is weak and frail,
Susceptible to nervous shock;
While the True Church can never fail
For it is based upon a rock.
The hippo’s feeble steps may err
In compassing material ends,
While the True Church need never stir
To gather in its dividends.
The ’potamus can never reach
The mango on the mango-tree;
But fruits of pomegranate and peach
Refresh the Church from over sea.
At mating time the hippo’s voice
Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,
But every week we hear rejoice
The Church, at being one with God.
The hippopotamus’s day
Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
God works in a mysterious way—
The Church can sleep and feed at once.
I saw the ’potamus take wing
Ascending from the damp savannas,
And quiring angels round him sing
The praise of God, in loud hosannas.
Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean
And him shall heavenly arms enfold,
Among the saints he shall be seen
Performing on a harp of gold.
He shall be washed as white as snow,
By all the martyr’d virgins kist,
While the True Church remains below
Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.
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Written by
Walt Whitman |
LONG I thought that knowledge alone would suffice me—O if I could but obtain
knowledge!
Then my lands engrossed me—Lands of the prairies, Ohio’s land, the southern
savannas,
engrossed me—For them I would live—I would be their orator;
Then I met the examples of old and new heroes—I heard of warriors, sailors, and all
dauntless persons—And it seemed to me that I too had it in me to be as dauntless as
any—and would be so;
And then, to enclose all, it came to me to strike up the songs of the New World—And
then I
believed my life must be spent in singing;
But now take notice, land of the prairies, land of the south savannas, Ohio’s land,
Take notice, you Kanuck woods—and you Lake Huron—and all that with you roll
toward
Niagara—and you Niagara also,
And you, Californian mountains—That you each and all find somebody else to be your
singer
of songs,
For I can be your singer of songs no longer—One who loves me is jealous of me, and
withdraws me from all but love,
With the rest I dispense—I sever from what I thought would suffice me, for it does
not—it is now empty and tasteless to me,
I heed knowledge, and the grandeur of The States, and the example of heroes, no more,
I am indifferent to my own songs—I will go with him I love,
It is to be enough for us that we are together—We never separate again.
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