Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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SNUDGE. |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
SNUDGE.
Here's a feather for science,
A laurel for lore,
To keep green our reliance
If drooping before;
It is not a new fossil, no gas or a stench,
Not a boom in a planet
Or law that began it,
Nor element wrung from its chemical clench.
We have really discovered at length the lost link,
In the Whitechapel sludge;
Only think—
It is Snudge!
A laurel for lore,
To keep green our reliance
If drooping before;
490
Not a boom in a planet
Or law that began it,
Nor element wrung from its chemical clench.
We have really discovered at length the lost link,
In the Whitechapel sludge;
Only think—
It is Snudge!
With his jaws too obtrusive,
And deep-sunken eyes
Darting glances elusive
As dreading surprise;
With his low furrowed forehead and criminal lip
Dropping down the right corner,
A mien like a mourner,
And curses that fall like the crack of a whip;
With his shaggy black eyebrows that bristle defence,
To impose on the judge
Some pretence—
This is Snudge.
And deep-sunken eyes
Darting glances elusive
As dreading surprise;
With his low furrowed forehead and criminal lip
Dropping down the right corner,
A mien like a mourner,
And curses that fall like the crack of a whip;
With his shaggy black eyebrows that bristle defence,
To impose on the judge
Some pretence—
This is Snudge.
Hardly man and more monkey
And scurvied and scarr'd,
With a furtive and funky
Expression on guard;
Mean and shrivelled and shrunk out of all human shape,
As if dried in an oven—
The dress of a sloven,
A fidgety foot that seems bent to escape;
With a heart that respires its own poisonous breath,
And will harbour a grudge
To the death—
This is Snudge.
And scurvied and scarr'd,
With a furtive and funky
Expression on guard;
Mean and shrivelled and shrunk out of all human shape,
As if dried in an oven—
The dress of a sloven,
A fidgety foot that seems bent to escape;
With a heart that respires its own poisonous breath,
And will harbour a grudge
To the death—
This is Snudge.
Growing down and yet colder
And grayer with time,
With humped nature and shoulder
Crutched easy for crime;
With long arms and crookt fingers that open and snap
On the throat or the plunder—
The man, of course, under—
And careless of blood, with a click like a trap;
With a stertorous voice always wheezy, that thinks
All morality fudge,
As he drinks—
This is Snudge.
And grayer with time,
With humped nature and shoulder
Crutched easy for crime;
With long arms and crookt fingers that open and snap
On the throat or the plunder—
The man, of course, under—
491
With a stertorous voice always wheezy, that thinks
All morality fudge,
As he drinks—
This is Snudge.
But among his foul vices
And conduct's black blot,
And the sin that suffices,
There's one brighter spot;
For inside the tenth part of the part of a house,
Where he herds with the steepings
Of jail and the sweepings,
He finds room and sneaking regard for a mouse;
And to this he devotes all his leisure and care
Who for others won't budge,
And won't spare—
This is Snudge.
And conduct's black blot,
And the sin that suffices,
There's one brighter spot;
For inside the tenth part of the part of a house,
Where he herds with the steepings
Of jail and the sweepings,
He finds room and sneaking regard for a mouse;
And to this he devotes all his leisure and care
Who for others won't budge,
And won't spare—
This is Snudge.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |