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181
POSTSCRIPT
IN PRAISE OF ROBERT BURNS
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183
‘I could write a capital satire on the world on the back
of that Bible; but first of all I must think of supplying
myself with food.’—Lavengro.
My hero Burns is wholly pure at heart?
His truly rural moral code is not
At one with ours. If urban folks depart
From the strait gate of virtue, they have got
His truly rural moral code is not
At one with ours. If urban folks depart
From the strait gate of virtue, they have got
None but themselves to blame for it: one learns
So very young so nicely what to hide!
My lady friend who looks askant at Burns
Remarks that Mrs. Grundy's skirts are wide;
So very young so nicely what to hide!
My lady friend who looks askant at Burns
Remarks that Mrs. Grundy's skirts are wide;
And Mrs. Grundy says that sex asserts
Itself so often, in the strangest ways,
She is obliged to wear the fullest skirts
To screen her darlings from the public gaze.
Itself so often, in the strangest ways,
She is obliged to wear the fullest skirts
To screen her darlings from the public gaze.
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The modern garb effectually conceals
The form of woman. How on earth she goes,
A little tipsy pyramid on wheels,
About her daily business, goodness knows.
The form of woman. How on earth she goes,
A little tipsy pyramid on wheels,
About her daily business, goodness knows.
It was against monstrosities like these
That Carlyle's far-resounding bolts were hurled:
We live and move (in clothes but half at ease)
And have our Being in a ‘naked world.’
That Carlyle's far-resounding bolts were hurled:
We live and move (in clothes but half at ease)
And have our Being in a ‘naked world.’
I say again that I in Burns delight,
I mean to make his life and work the text
Of some eight hundred verses: I shall write
Of all within my knowledge that has vext
I mean to make his life and work the text
Of some eight hundred verses: I shall write
Of all within my knowledge that has vext
The souls of workers in this land of ours.
I say at once, to make my meaning plain,
When we have killed the filthy beast that glowers
On all our doings, Love will breathe again:
I say at once, to make my meaning plain,
When we have killed the filthy beast that glowers
On all our doings, Love will breathe again:
And not till then. I do not mention names:
The animal in question is of course
No stranger to us: when the Devil claims
His own, we shall without the least remorse
The animal in question is of course
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His own, we shall without the least remorse
Abandon him, and tell him he may go
To Blazes with his beastly money-bags,
And learn to play with bosom friends below
The game called ‘Retribution’ when Time flags.
To Blazes with his beastly money-bags,
And learn to play with bosom friends below
The game called ‘Retribution’ when Time flags.
So much for the god Mammon. To return:
I've written so far, you will understand,
By way of practice: if I want to earn
A living by it, I must lick the hand
I've written so far, you will understand,
By way of practice: if I want to earn
A living by it, I must lick the hand
Of some one high in office—some one hired
To make the business of a paper pay.
(The trick of self-effacement once acquired
One never loses, its professors say.)
To make the business of a paper pay.
(The trick of self-effacement once acquired
One never loses, its professors say.)
If God indeed helps those who help themselves,
He must have lost all sense of Right and Wrong—
While under His direction Adam delves,
No Child of Nature will attempt a song.
He must have lost all sense of Right and Wrong—
While under His direction Adam delves,
No Child of Nature will attempt a song.
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If in ten dozen books of verse that claim
To be called poetry you find
But one pure song deserving of the name,
Then take the writer in your arms and blind
To be called poetry you find
But one pure song deserving of the name,
Then take the writer in your arms and blind
Him with fond kisses. On that fateful day
Talk not of money, lest you do him wrong.
Put up your purse. Let Love in his own way
Do honour to the singer and the song.
Talk not of money, lest you do him wrong.
Put up your purse. Let Love in his own way
Do honour to the singer and the song.
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