Classic and Contemporary Poetry
OLD SAWS NEW SET; A GREEK FABLE TO AN ENGLISH MORAL, by CHARLES KINGSLEY Poet's Biography First Line: I met john clod the other day quite out of sorts and pensive Last Line: Reforms are god's own blessings -- revolutions oft his curse. Subject(s): England; Government; English | ||||||||
I MET John Clod the other day quite out of sorts and pensive, And grumbling at the government as idle and expensive, "With taxing food and clothes and light, they've almost broke our backs; And when shall we poor chaps get back our money's worth, I ax? I seed upon the paper what a lot we have to pay: They promises us all reform, but they cart no dirt away. This government does nothing, sir, I've most a mind to riot." "So had the frogs, friend John," quoth I, "but they got little by it." "How's that, then?" "Why, these frogs had lived for many a hundred year, Like jolly old republicans, without distress or fear; When having grown more civilized, the sapient croakers found, That all they wanted was a king, just like the nations round. So for a king they prayed -- Jove heard -- and kindly tossed a log Down out of heaven among them all, and flattened many a frog. The great unsquashed croaked loyal awe, and swore on bended knees, To carry out with fire and sword whate'er their king might please: But his majesty pleased nothing -- no! he wouldn't even swear. To find their dear-bought whistle dumb, was more than frogs could bear. 'A king!' they squalled again. Jove laughed, 'They can't let well alone; Why, lazy rulers leave at least each man to mind his own; Well, then, here's something practical, -- this government shall work.' And Iris post from Belgium fetched a patriarchal stork. The stork surveyed his subjects with a true Malthusian air -- 'Ah! over population! There's the mischief, I declare! The bog will get quite pauperized!' he stretched two yard-long bills, And sucked down luckless frog on frog, and as he gulped his pills, 'Your individual sufferings, my brothers, may be great, But then, like starving artisans, your suffering feeds the State.' In vain they shrieked to Jove; 'It's now too late, my friends, to talk; You've had your choice -- you cut King Log, you cannot cut King Stork.'" Moral New brooms sweep clean -- but then new boots are apt to prove too tight; Each party tries its nostrums -- if they could but hit the right! Things might be better, babies know -- but then things might be worse. Reforms are God's own blessings -- Revolutions oft His curse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NINETEEN FORTY by NORMAN DUBIE GHOSTS IN ENGLAND by ROBINSON JEFFERS STAYING UP FOR ENGLAND by LIAM RECTOR STONE AND FLOWER by KENNETH REXROTH THE HANGED MAN by KENNETH REXROTH ENGLISH TRAIN COMPARTMENT by JOHN UPDIKE A FAREWELL [TO C.E.G.] by CHARLES KINGSLEY A ROUGH RHYME ON A ROUGH MATTER; THE ENGLISH GAME LAWS by CHARLES KINGSLEY |
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