Followers

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Saturday, January 28, 2006



A Consecration

NOT of the princes and prelates with periwigged charioteers
Riding triumphantly laurelled to lap the fat of the years,—
Rather the scorned—the rejected—the men hemmed in with the spears;

The men of the tattered battalion which fights till it dies,
Dazed with the dust of the battle, the din and the cries.
The men with the broken heads and the blood running into their eyes.

Not the be-medalled Commander, beloved of the throne,
Riding cock-horse to parade when the bugles are blown,
But the lads who carried the koppie and cannot be known.

Not the ruler for me, but the ranker, the tramp of the "road,
The slave with the sack on his shoulders pricked on with the goad,
The man with too weighty a burden, too weary a load.

The sailor, the stoker of steamers, the man with the clout,
The chantyman bent at the halliards putting a tune to the shout,
The drowsy man at the wheel and the tired look-out.

Others may sing of the wine and the wealth and the mirth,
The portly presence of potentates goodly in girth;—
Mine be the dirt and the dross, the dust and scum of the earth!

Theirs be the music, the colour, the glory, the gold;
Mine be a handful of ashes, a mouthful of mould.
Of the maimed, of the halt and the blind in the rain and the cold—
Of these shall my songs be fashioned, my tales be told.

AMEN.
John Masefield.

Friday, January 27, 2006

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Monday, January 23, 2006

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Friday, January 13, 2006

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Monday, January 09, 2006

Sunday, January 08, 2006

Friday, January 06, 2006

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Monday, January 02, 2006

Sunday, January 01, 2006