08-24-2007, 09:27 PM
Now, I know, poetry by itself doesn't trigger Doug's powers.
But Leslie Fish has already released two volumes of Kipling's work set to music, so...
Others aren't anywhere near as easy to categorize...
For example, The King:
"I give you the beautiful... the talented... the tirelessly atomic-powered...
R!
DOROTHY!
WAYNERIGHT!
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.
But Leslie Fish has already released two volumes of Kipling's work set to music, so...
Quote:Disassembles and reassembles a building into a home customized to precisely Doug's ideal living space. The moment he is no longer resident within, however (temporary departures don't count, but sale, moving on from that Step, etc, would), however, it collapses in upon itself.
WHEN I was King and a Masona Master proven and skilled
I cleared me ground for a Palace such as a King should build.
I decreed and dug down to my levels. Presently, under the silt,
I came on the wreck of a Palace such as a King had built.
There was no worth in the fashionthere was no wit in the plan
Hither and thither, aimless, the ruined footings ran
Masonry, brute, mishandled, but careen on every stone:
After me cometh a Builder. Tell him, I too have known.
Swift to my use in my trenches, where my well-planned ground-works grew,
I tumbled his quoins and his ashlars, and cut and reset them anew.
Lime I milled of his marbles; burned it, slacked it, and spread;
Taking and leaving at pleasure the gifts of the humble dead.
Yet I despised not nor gloried; yet, as we wrenched them apart,
I read in the razed foundations the heart of that builders heart.
As he had risen and pleaded, so did I understand
The form of the dream he had followed in the face of the thing he had planned.
. . . . .
When I was a King and a Masonin the open noon of my pride,
They sent me a Word from the DarknessThey whispered and called me aside.
They saidThe end is forbidden. They saidThy use is fulfilled.
Thy Palace shall stand as that othersthe spoil of a King who shall build.
I called my men from my trenches, my quarries, my wharves, and my sheers.
All I had wrought I abandoned to the faith of the faithless years.
Only I cut on the timberonly I carved on the stone:
After me cometh a Builder. Tell him, I too have known !
Others aren't anywhere near as easy to categorize...
For example, The King:
Quote:Or, The Kingdom
FAREWELL, Romance! the Cave-men said;
With bone well carved he went away,
Flint arms the ignoble arrowhead,
And jasper tips the spear to-day.
Changed are the Gods of Hunt and Dance,
And he with these. Farewell, Romance!
Farewell, Romance! the Lake-folk sighed;
We lift the weight of flatling years;
The caverns of the mountain-side
Hold him who scorns our hutted piers.
Lost hills whereby we dare not dwell,
Guard ye his rest. Romance, farewell!
Farewell, Romance! the Soldier spoke;
By sleight of sword we may not win,
But scuffle mid uncleanly smoke
Of arquebus and culverin.
Honour is lost, and none may tell
Who paid good blows. Romance, farewell!
Farewell, Romance! the Traders cried;
Our keels ha lain with every sea;
The dull-returning wind and tide
Heave up the wharf where we would be;
The known and noted breezes swell
Our trudging sail. Romance, farewell!
Good-bye, Romance! the Skipper said;
He vanished with the coal we burn;
Our dial marks full steam ahead,
Our speed is timed to half a turn.
Sure as the ferried barge we ply
Twixt port and port. Romance, good-bye!
Romance! the season-tickets mourn,
He never ran to catch his train,
But passed with coach and guard and horn
And left the locallate again!
Confound Romance! . . . And all unseen
Romance brought up the nine-fifteen.
His hand was on the lever laid,
His oil-can soothed the worrying cranks,
His whistle waked the snowbound grade,
His fog-horn cut the reeking Banks;
By dock and deep and mine and mill
The Boy-god reckless laboured still!
Robed, crowned and throned, he wove his spell,
Where heart-blood beat or hearth-smoke curled,
With unconsidered miracle,
Hedged in a backward-gazing world;
Then taught his chosen bard to say:
Our King was with usyesterday!
Quote:I am sure, however, he could find use for A Pict Song:
NOW we are come to our Kingdom,
And the State is thus and thus;
Our legions wait at the Palace gate
Little it profits us.
Now we are come to our Kingdom!
Now we are come to our Kingdom,
And the Crown is ours to take
With a naked sword at the Council board,
And under the throne the snake.
Now we are come to our Kingdom!
Now we are come to our Kingdom,
And the Realm is ours by right,
With shame and fear for our daily cheer,
And heaviness at night.
Now we are come to our Kingdom!
Now we are come to our Kingdom,
But my loves eyelids fall.
All that I wrought for, all that I fought for,
Delight her nothing at all.
My crown is of withered leaves,
For she sits in the dust and grieves.
Now we are come to our Kingdom!
Quote:--
ROME never looks where she treads.
Always her heavy hooves fall,
On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads;
And Rome never heeds when we bawl.
Her sentries pass onthat is all,
And we gather behind them in hordes,
And plot to reconquer the Wall,
With only our tongues for our swords.
We are the Little Folkwe!
Too little to love or to hate.
Leave us alone and youll see
How we can drag down the State!
We are the worm in the wood!
We are the rot at the root!
We are the taint in the blood!
We are the thorn in the foot!
Mistletoe killing an oak
Rats gnawing cables in two
Moths making holes in a cloak
How they must love what they do!.
Yesand we Little Folk too,
We are busy as they
Working our works out of view
Watch, and youll see it some day!
No indeed! We are not strong,
But we know Peoples that are.
Yes, and well guide them along,
To smash and destroy you in War!
We shall be slaves just the same?
Yes, we have always been slaves,
But youyou will die of the shame,
And then we shall dance on your graves!
We are the Little Folkwe!
Too little to love or to hate.
Leave us alone and youll see
How we can drag down the State!
We are the worm in the wood!
We are the rot at the root!
We are the taint in the blood!
We are the thorn in the foot!
"I give you the beautiful... the talented... the tirelessly atomic-powered...
R!
DOROTHY!
WAYNERIGHT!
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.