Month: July 2007

Roget McGough

The Man in the Moon On the edge of the jumping-off place I stood Below me, the lake Beyond that, the dark wood And above, a night-sky that roared. I picked a space between two stars Held out my arms, and soared. * * * The journey lasted not half a minute There is a moon reflected in the lake You will find me in it.…

Bruce Cockburn

All the Diamonds All the diamonds in this world That mean anything to me Are conjured up by wind and sunlight Sparkling on the sea I ran aground in a harbour town Lost the taste for being free Thank God He sent some gull-chased ship To carry me to sea Two thousand years and half a world away Dying trees still grow greener when you pray Silver scales flash bright and fade In reeds along the shore Like a pearl in sea of liquid jade His ship comes shining Like a crystal swan in a sky of suns His ship comes shining.…

Winston Churchill

If you cannot read all your books, at any rate handle, or as it were, fondle them-peer into them, let them fall open where they will, read from the first sentence that arrests the eye, set then back on the shelves with your own hands, arrange them on your own plan so that if you do not know what is in them, you at least know where they are. Let them be your friends let them at any rate be your acquaintances. If they cannot enter the circle of your life, do not deny them at least a nod of recognition.…

T S Eliot

The Hippopotamus The broad-backed hippopotamus Rests on his belly in the mud; Although he seems so firm to us He is merely flesh and blood. Flesh and blood is weak and frail, Susceptible to nervous shock; While the true church can never fail For it is based upon a rock. The hippo’s feeble steps may err In compassing material ends, While the True Church need never stir To gather in its dividends. The ‘potamus can never reach The mango on the mango-tree; But fruits of pomegranate and peach Refresh the Church from over sea. At mating time the hippo’s voice Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd, But every week we hear rejoice The Church, at being one with God. The hippopotamus’s day Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts; God works in a mysterious way – The church can sleep and feed at once I saw the ‘potamus take wing Ascending from the damp savannas, And quiring angels round him sing The praise of God, in loud hosannas. Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean And him shall heavenly arms enfold, Among the saints he shall be seen Performing on a harp of gold. He shall be washed as white as snow, By all martyr’d virgins kist, While the True Church remains below Wrapt in old miasmal mist.…

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