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You can't order a goat to eat the hyena.

African proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hyena

Night time fell at the opening,
In the final act of the beginning of time.
Hyena take your role, the stage is set.
The town is safe again tonight
Hyena (I see the day ahead)
Hyena (and all that Ive cried through)
Hyena (God knows youre doin that, dont you? )
Hyena, sister look to your hand
Man you serve communal interest,
Shell tell you when and where and how and why youd hurt
A beautiful young lady
Hyena (I see the day ahead)
Hyena (and all that Ive cried through)
Hyena (God knows youre doin that, dont you? )
The only thing to fear is fearlessness
The bigger the weapon the greater the fear
Hyena is ambassador to here
Night time fell like the closing
Meager pay, but recognition
Hyena crawls on his belly out
The town is safe again tonight
Hyena (I see the changes, man)
Hyena (goin on cross the way)
Hyena (I see my road ahead)
Hyena (dont know if I should stay)
Hyena (I see you holding him,)
Hyena (and all that Ive cried through)
Hyena (God knows youre doin that, dont you? )

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eat It

How come youre always such a fussy young man?
Dont want no captain crunch, dont want no raison bran
Well, dont you know that other kids are starving in japan
So eat it, just eat it
Dont want to argue, I dont want to debate
Dont want to hear about what kind of food you hate
You wont get no dessert till you clean off your plate
So eat it
Dont you tell me youre full
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Get yourself an egg and beat it
Have some more chicken, have some more pie
It doesnt matter if its boiled or fried
Just eat it, eat it, just eat it, eat it
Just eat it, eat it, just eat it, eat it, ooh
Your table manners are some cryin shame
Youre playin with your food, this aint some kind of game
Now, if you starve to death, youll just have yourself to blame
So eat it, just eat it
You better listen, better do what youre told
You havent even touched your tuna casserole
You better chow down or its gonna get cold
So eat it
I dont care if youre full
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Open up your mouth and feed it
Have some more yogurt, have some more spam
It doesnt matter it its fresh or tanned
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Dont you make me repeate it
Have a banana, have a whole bunch
It doesnt matter what you had for lunch
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
If its gettin cold, reheat it
Have a big dinner, have a light snack
If you dont like it, you cant send it back
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Get yourself an egg and beat it (oh lord)
Have some more chicken, have some more pie
It doesnt matter if its boiled or fried
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it
Dont you make me repeat it (oh no)
Have a banana, have a whole bunch
It doesnt matter what you had for lunch
Just eat it, eat it, eat it, eat it

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Scapegoat

We have all of us read how the Israelites fled
From Egypt with Pharaoh in eager pursuit of 'em,
And Pharaoh's fierce troop were all put "in the soup"
When the waters rolled softly o'er every galoot of 'em.
The Jews were so glad when old Pharaoh was "had"
That they sounded their timbrels and capered like mad.
You see he was hated from Jordan to Cairo --
Whence comes the expression "to buck against faro".
For forty long years, 'midst perils and fears
In deserts with never a famine to follow by,
The Israelite horde went roaming abroad
Like so many sundowners "out on the wallaby".
When Moses, who led 'em, and taught 'em, and fed 'em,
Was dying, he murmured, "A rorty old hoss you are:
I give you command of the whole of the band" --
And handed the Government over to Joshua.

But Moses told 'em before he died,
"Wherever you are, whatever betide,
Every year as the time draws near
By lot or by rote choose you a goat,
And let the high priest confess on the beast
The sins of the people the worst and the least,
Lay your sins on the goat! Sure the plan ought to suit yer.
Because all your sins are 'his troubles' in future.
Then lead him away to the wilderness black
To die with the weight of your sins on his back:
Of thirst let him perish alone and unshriven,
For thus shall your sins be absolved and forgiven!"

'Tis needless to say, though it reeked of barbarity
This scapegoat arrangement gained great popularity.
By this means a Jew, whate'er he might do,
Though he burgled, or murdered, or cheated at loo,
Or meat on Good Friday (a sin most terrific) ate,
Could get his discharge, like a bankrupt's certificate;
Just here let us note -- Did they choose their best goat?
It's food for conjecture, to judge from the picture
By Hunt in the Gallery close to our door, a
Man well might suppose that the scapegoat they chose
Was a long way from being their choicest Angora.

In fact I should think he was one of their weediest:
'Tis a rule that obtains, no matter who reigns,
When making a sacrifice, offer the seediest;
Which accounts for a theory known to my hearers
Who live in the wild by the wattle beguiled,
That a "stag" makes quite good enough mutton for shearers.
Be that as it may, as each year passed away,
a scapegoat was led to the desert and freighted

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Dog Eat Dog

It’s a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.
Live like a dog die like a dog, as the old saying goes,
The plant you water is the plant that grows, everybody knows,
Give blows, get blows
Down’s how the water flows
Live like a dog die like a dog
It’s a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.

Dog bites matty dog for a piece of meat,
Child hits matty child for a taste of sweet,
Woman claws her matty because she looks so neat,
Man robs his matty man because he wants to eat,
Policeman kicks his matty thief because he likes to beat.
It’s a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.
Live like a dog die like a dog, as the old saying goes,
The plant you water is the plant that grows, as everybody knows,
Give blows, get blows
Down’s how the water flows
Live like a dog die like a dog
It’s a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.

Preacher lies to the congregation cos that comes naturally,
Shopman cheats his customer for maximum profitability,
Politician takes all the bribes he can, constitutionally,
Lawyer robs you with a pen completely legally
Country bombs its matty land nationalistically.
It’s a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog world, a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.
Live like a dog die like a dog, as the old saying goes,
The plant you water is the plant that grows, everybody knows,
Give blows, get blows
Down’s how the water flows
Live like a dog die like a dog
It’s a dog eat dog eat dog eat dog world.

poem by Nim Lee
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Purled and Plain

A century ago or more,
a ship was wrecked in seas remote
and ‘mid the flotsam cast ashore
on limestone coast, was boy and goat.

On windswept isle of grass and scrub,
the goat was free from ship's confine,
The boy used frantic hands to grub
the remnants spat from sated brine.

Some bags of wheat, a box of tools,
he dug from sand to grant relief,
Though most the bounty lay in pools,
unreachable on distant reef.

He supplemented meagre fare
with bitter berries plucked from shrub,
And mutton birds entrapped with snare
were baked on fire, sparked by rub.

He ground the wheat to make a flour
and over stones, the dough was spread.
The fragrance drifted by the hour
and goat was drawn by fresh baked bread.

He only sought companionship
and never planned to eat the goat,
With winter's ‘proaching icy whip
he knew he'd need a cashmere coat.

Goat's lower jaw slid side to side
and yellow eyes had black slit stare,
With shears from toolbox opened wide
the boy slow clipped its shaggy hair.

It took him weeks to hand spin yarn
and fashion knitting pins from wood,
And further weeks to stitch and darn
the front to back with sleeves and hood.

The goat made charge as show of scorn
with flying hooves and lowered head,
The boy made threat to cut its horns
for buttons, but used wood instead.

The goat grew back its hair twice thick
as winter seized with frigid grip,
The boy donned coat and buttoned quick
when out of blue, appeared a ship.

[...] Read more

poem by Diane Hine
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The Ballad Of Casey's Billy-Goat

You've heard of "Casey at The Bat,"
And "Casey's Tabble Dote";
But now it's time
To write a rhyme
Of "Casey's Billy-goat."

Pat Casey had a billy-goat he gave the name of Shamus,
Because it was (the neighbours said) a national disgrace.
And sure enough that animal was eminently famous
For masticating every rag of laundry round the place.
For shirts to skirts prodigiously it proved its powers of chewing;
The question of digestion seemed to matter not at all;
But you'll agree, I think with me, its limit of misdoing
Was reached the day it swallowed Missis Rooney's ould red shawl.

Now Missis Annie Rooney was a winsome widow women,
And many a bouncing boy had sought to make her change her name;
And living just across the way 'twas surely only human
A lonesome man like Casey should be wishfully the same.
So every Sunday, shaved and shined, he'd make the fine occasion
To call upon the lady, and she'd take his and coat;
And supping tea it seemed that she might yield to his persuasion,
But alas! he hadn't counted on that devastating goat.

For Shamus loved his master with a deep and dumb devotion,
And everywhere that Casey went that goat would want to go;
And though I cannot analyze a quadruped's emotion,
They said the baste was jealous, and I reckon it was so.
For every time that Casey went to call on Missis Rooney,
Beside the gate the goat would wait with woefulness intense;
Until one day it chanced that they were fast becoming spooney,
When Shamus spied that ould red shawl a-flutter on the fence.

Now Missis Rooney loved that shawl beyond all rhyme or reason,
And maybe 'twas an heirloom or a cherished souvenir;
For judging by the way she wore it season after season,
I might have been as precious as a product of Cashmere.
So Shamus strolled towards it, and no doubt the colour pleased him,
For he biffed it and he sniffed it, as most any goat might do;
Then his melancholy vanished as a sense of hunger seized him,
And he wagged his tail with rapture as he started in to chew.

"Begorrah! you're a daisy," said the doting Mister Casey
to the blushing Widow Rooney as they parted at the door.
"Wid yer tinderness an' tazin' sure ye've set me heart a-blazin',
And I dread the day I'll nivver see me Anniw anny more."
"Go on now wid yer blarney," said the widow softly sighing;
And she went to pull his whiskers, when dismay her bosom smote. . . .
Her ould red shawl! 'Twas missin' where she'd left it bravely drying -
Then she saw it disappearing - down the neck of Casey's goat.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
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Eat Em Up L Chill

Chill
(eat em up, l)
Chill
(eat em up, l)
Chill
(eat em up, l)
Chill
(eat em up, l)
[ verse 1 ]
Bring on the mos and hos
Dont snooze or doze
Cause Im rippin up shows
Hold your nose, dead bodies are around
I leave scratch marks under the tears of a clown
I write rhymes that shine like lipstick
So much material, but not materialistic
Imperial styles I use
When the mic is lifted the crowd is amused
Come with it, if you feel youre full-fledged
Or yell geronimo! and jump off the edge
Your e-n-d is near when I appear
The stage is yours, but wait until the smoke clears
Rhyme sayer, and Im here to lay a load
So watch a player when hes playin in player mode
Uncle ls bad, and youre soon to say
Cause I rip the mic until the toon decay
Chill
(eat em up, l)
Chill
(eat em up, l)
Chill
(eat em up, l)
Chill
(eat em up, l)
[ verse 2 ]
Mcs are dumb, I catch em in a dragnet
Youre not complete, Im battlin a fragment
So creative and witty and outstandin
And I be demandin that youre abondoned
In the desert or a wild west town
While Im at your crib on a cherry-go-round
Where will she stop? no one knows
Like I said before, bring on the mos and hos
I know my abcs and my ps and qs
Just chill and listen to the rhyme cruise
All aboard, the cod is a reward
Some were ignored when they toured for they bored
The crowd was aloud, lyrics werent endowed
Took a crack of the 40 and went to show em how
You like me now, but you didnt before

[...] Read more

song performed by LL Cool J
Added by Lucian Velea
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Guffaw, Scouring Hyena

In the luxuriant, yet petrified floor
Of the torrid palms of her savanna
Where the tigers' prance and scamper
And the farce blades of soughing grasses
Are combed to placidness upon their heavy paws
Whilst his svelte and famished pillars stood
And grinded upon the torrid pebbles
And they rattled in an apprehension
And trembled upon the covetousness
Instigated by tiger's vitriol that she identified
Whilst he sulked in the corner of her
Sparse stream of bigoted empathy
Shrouded in a discreet subterfuge;
Discreetly flagrant, a blatant contradiction
Yet no one pried, and no one understood
Not even the vicarious vulturine brethren,
Witnessing the gnashing of a tooth on a tooth,
Perched amongst the fringes of the dunes
That climbs and crumples upon the palms
Of a sweaty savanna, like fingers or claws
Clutching a prison, enclosing the meager hyena
With his tongue jutting out and slavering
Contouring a wryly bent grin, yet again
No one understood, or better yet,
No one cared, not even her scrolling clouds
That hazily undulated into his musings
That drove a frenzy to keel over just to taste
The dry and desiccated streaks of her air
A carpet of her hair, to her languid head
And in this scavenging, you may find him
If you would twist your conceited vision,
Vindictive and consumed by vanity,
He, the hyena that he is, wagging its tail
Gilded with a lacquer smile and taunt snicker
Filling the vacuous legroom of the grounds
With a dazing cacophony, the hyena's laugh;
A chortle for a bawl, he indisputably rolls
And a snivel for a snigger, stalled amidst the tigers
This is an epistle for his glory riveted in a mockery
And this not proposed for your, neither her, mercy
This is another anthology of a thousand hunting game
For a despondent scavenger, for a hyena,
Who had reduced himself in harlequin's mask
In order to live on, even on the edges,
Of her, inexorably, and your, obsequious villages
Guffaw, scouring hyena.

poem by Norman Santos
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Christmas Day At The Bunkhouse (Fun Poem 47)

It was Christmas day at the bunkhouse
everyone had sat down for a meal
when through the door walked a goat.
He stood and looked around,
then continued to eat an artichoke.
When he finished he sat and asked for a drink,
someone got up and gave him a bowel of water.
The goat looked at the offering with disgust.
Ain’t you got anything stronger that that?
Of course, we have, came the reply.
Well pour me out some the goats said,
and put some mud in my eye.
Someone had some scotch whiskey
and took the bottle out,
then gave the goat a dram.
The goat sniffed it, and then downed it
all in one swallow.
He then asked for more
saying his legs were still hollow.
Another dram was poured
and everyone was amazed to see,
an upside down goat
drinking a bottle of scotch whiskey.
The goat drank all day
and it drank all night.
The lights went out
and the old goat went to sleep.
He dreamed of himself
floating out the door
and all the way to heaven,
but when he got there,
St Peter wouldn’t let him in.
He said God will not tolerate
any drunken old goats here,
so you had better go back
and sleep it off, Billy.
Then put up a sign on the door.
No drunken old goats allowed,
signed by you know who.
You could always try
beneath the basement floor
he’ll greet you with a smile
and a shovel,
even make you hot and warm.
The moral of this story
whether you’re a goat or a man.
Don’t drink too much;
you could end up
jumping from the frying pan
and straight into the fire,

[...] Read more

poem by David Harris
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Where's My Billy Goat Gone To?

'Twas a birthday gift Miss Posie had
When she was nine, and twenty:
Not of gold -- Oh, no! -- nor gem, nor pearl,
Tho' he who gave had plenty.
'Twas a gift she took so much to heart,
Her neighbors thought her silly;
'Twas a B-A-B-Y (Baby) Goat,
A snow-white Baby Billy!
Pretty little Billy, Billy -- Oh!
Where's my Billy Goat gone to?

Take my home! Take my farm!
Yes, me too (if you want to);
But tell me! tell me!
Where's my Billy Goat gone to?
Pretty little Billy, Billy -- Oh!
Where's my Billy Goat gone to?

When she tried to teach him how to read,
Twas only "baa" he'd utter;
As she coaxed him then with cake and cream,
He'd slyly turn to butt her.
Yet he taught himself a thousand tricks,
And many a curious caper;
He would clamber to her chimney top,
And dine there on brown paper.

When the winter came she bought him shoes,
And flannel red she ordered
For a Sunday suit, with trousers cut
Four-legged and embroidered
On the steeple soon in tatters hung,
They set the parson snarling;
And he called that goat Be-el-ze-bub --
The one that she called Darling.
Pretty little Billy, Billy -- Oh!
Where's my Billy Goat gone to?

He was fond of roaming on the rocks,
With workmen in the quarry;
And if there he found their luncheon pails,
Not he but they were sorry.
For he raised aloft his iron brow,
Despite the foreman's clamor;
And the pails, he crushed them one by one,
As with a blacksmith's hammer.
Pretty little Billy, Billy -- Oh!
Where's my Billy Goat gone to?

Then for pails replaced and pails concealed

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Teach Me How to Eat

If you notice I stay hungry,
Teach me how to eat.
If you notice no baloney,
Teach me how to eat.

More discipline I may be needing.
Teach me how to eat.
More seriousness I may yet miss.
Teach me how to eat.

No medications do I take,
To keep a pace that irritates.
No longer young with dumb ideals.
Teach me how to eat.

I wish a peace that keeps me feeding.
So teach me how to eat.
I see in you more than in some.
The ones who can not overcome.
I see some stumble as others run.
But you,
Know how to eat.

Success you've reached and still you seek.
Teach me how to eat...
I'm hungry.
Teach me how to eat.

Success you've reached and still you seek.
Teach me how to eat...
I'm hungry.
Teach me how to eat.

If you notice I stay hungry,
Teach me how to eat.
If you notice no baloney,
Teach me how to eat.
I'm hungry.
Teach me how to eat.

Teach me how to eat.
I'm hungry.
Teach me how to eat.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Work - the cycle

Wake, work, home, eat sleep
This cycle keeps on and on
As the time it takes is so long
Wake, work, home, eat sleep

Wake work home eat sleep
This cycle don’t seem at all to end
All your life in work you seem to spend
Wake work home eat sleep

Wake work home eat sleep
You start to see your life is slipping away
As people no longer around you stay
Wake work home eat sleep

Wake work home eat sleep
I’m surprised now I’m even getting time to eat
It would be bliss to stop rest my feet
Wake work home eat sleep

Wake work home eat sleep
You doing so many hours you feel ill
And you keep doing the cycle still
Wake work home eat sleep

Wake work home eat sleep
People bosses customers just keep adding more
You start to long for sleep and to snore
Wake work home eat sleep

Wake work home eat sleep
Something drastic happens the cycle breaks
And that all that it really takes
Wake work home eat sleep no more., ….

poem by Micron
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Goat Hill

Goat Hill

Walking out the door that man told me to go to hell
My son asked mommy where’s Goat Hill
I said I don’t know son it must be through the valley
My son said mommy lets go there
Up to goat hill
I bet it’s on top of the mountain
I bet there is waterfalls, birds, trees, pretty flowers for all the butterflies and honey bees
I said son if we could I’m sure we would
Most definitely go up to goat hill
I’m not ever going to take you where that man said to go
That place is an internal melting pot
And its way to hot
There’s no mountains with snow on top
No waterfalls trees birds butterflies or honey bees in the place that man said to go
Son I know you are good
Some day together I believe we will find the place called Goat Hill
You found somewhere in your mind
Where life is gentle and Kind
Everyday and every night all the time
Son I bet up on Goat Hill we will only see Gods will being done by the Father and the Son

poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
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Ito Eats

(words & music by sid tepper - roy bennett)
Ito eat like teeth are out of style
Ito eat like teeth are out of style
Ito eating all the while
Eat ito eat all the night and the day
Eat ito eat all the night and the day
Ito is an eating boy
He never get enough from fish and poi
He eat everything he dont care what
He even eat the shell from the coconut
Eat ito eat all the night and the day
Eat ito eat all the night and the day
Hey, ito little faster
Ito little slower
Ito eat like teeth are out of style
Ito eat like teeth are out of style
When you say that stranger smile
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dog Eat Dog

Dog eat dog
Its dog eat dog--Im just waking up
The dove is in the dungeon
And the white-washed hawks pedal hate and call it love
Dog eat dog
Holy hope in the hands of
Snakebite evangelists and racketeers
And big wig financiers
Dog eat dog
On prime time crime the victim begs
Money is the road to justice
And power walks it on crooked legs
Prime--time--crime
Holy hope in the hands of
Snakebite evangelists and racketeers
And big wig financiers
Where the wealths displayed
Thieves and sycophants parade
And where its made--
The slaves will be taken
Some are treated well
In these games of buy and sell
And some like poor beast
Are burdened down to breaking
Dog eat dog
Its dog eat dog, aint it flim flam man
Dog eat dog, you can lie, cheat, skim, scam
Beatem any way you can
Dog eat dog
Youll do well in this land of
Snakebite evangelists and racketeers
You could get to be
A big wig financier
Land of snap decisions
Land of short attention spans
Nothing is savored
Long enough to really understand
In every culture in decline
The watchful ones among the slaves
Know all that is genuine will be
Scorned and conned and cast away
Dog eat dog
People looking, seeing nothing
Dog eat dog
People listening, hearing nothing
Dog eat dog
People lusting, loving nothing
Dog eat dog
People stroking, touching nothing
Dog eat dog

[...] Read more

song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.


II.

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

III.

Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

IV.

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

V.

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.

VI.

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

VII.

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.

VIII.

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.

IX.

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

X.

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

XI.

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

XII.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

XIII.

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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About Beets

~A VERY TRUE STORY~

I’d rather eat snails with some raw lizard tails!
I’d rather eat soap scum and witch’s toenails!
I’d rather eat fungus, black and humungous,
In fact I’m sure I would rather eat fungus!
I’d rather eat bugs and the shells of three crabs,
Sticky alien brains all covered in scabs!
I’d rather eat rocks in a giant brown box!
I’d rather eat chickens that have chicken pox!
I’d rather eat cacti that make me scream 'OUCH! '
I’d rather eat hair-balls from under the couch!
I’d rather eat bread that has turned grossly green,
Or the biggest earth worm that you’ve ever seen!
I’d rather eat ear wax and slimy eel skin,
I wish that the church would say 'BEETS are a SIN! '
I’d rather eat garbage, a cockroach or TEN…

Than to EVER-EVER eat BEETS Again!

From the book: 'A Woolly Mammoth on Amelia Street: Read Aloud Poems4Kids' By: Todd St. Pierre
www.LouisianaBoy.com

poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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Bizare Day

Sun is sunning
Rain is raining
Hyena is hunting for
Prey not male nor
Female or harmophordite

Sun is shining
Rain is pouring
Hyena found that prey
But can't eat it at
Daytime or night tme

Sun is shining
Rain is pouring
Hyena and his wife
Who just miscarriaged
Are starving to death

poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Canto 13

Kung walked
by the dynastic temple
and into the cedar grove,
and then out by the lower river,
And with him Khieu Tchi
and Tian the low speaking
And "we are unknown," said Kung,
"You will take up charioteering?
"Then you will become known,
"Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery?
"Or the practice of public speaking?"
And Tseu-lou said, "I would put the defences in order,"
And Khieu said, "If I were lord of a province
"I would put it in better order than this is."
And Tchi said, "I would prefer a small mountain temple,
"With order in the observances,
with a suitable performance of the ritual,"
And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute
The low sounds continuing
after his hand left the strings,
And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves,
And he looked after the sound:
"The old swimming hole,
"And the boys flopping off the planks,
"Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins."
And Kung smiled upon all of them equally.
And Thseng-sie desired to know:
"Which had answered correctly?"
And Kung said, "They have all answered correctly,
"That is to say, each in his nature."
And Kung raised his cane against Yuan Jang,
Yuan Jang being his elder,
For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to
be receiving wisdom.
And Kung said
"You old fool, come out of it,
"Get up and do something useful."
And Kung said
"Respect a child's faculties
"From the moment it inhales the clear air,
"But a man of fifty who knows nothng
Is worthy of no respect."
And "When the prince has gathered about him
"All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed."
And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves:
If a man have not order within him
He can not spread order about him;
And if a man have not order within him
His family will not act with due order;
And if the prince have not order within him

[...] Read more

poem by Ezra Pound
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Canto XIII: Kung Walked

Kung walked
by the dynastic temple
and into the cedar grove,
and then out by the lower river,
And with him Khieu Tchi
and Tian the low speaking
And ``we are unknown," said Kung,
``You will take up charioteering?
``Then you will become known,
``Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery?
``Or the practice of public speaking?''
And Tseu-lou said, ``I would put the defences in order,''
And Khieu said, ``If I were lord of a province
``I would put it in better order than this is.''
And Tchi said, ``I would prefer a small mountain temple,
``With order in the observances,
with a suitable performance of the ritual,''
And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute
The low sounds continuing
after his hand left the strings,
And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves,
And he looked after the sound:
``The old swimming hole,
``And the boys flopping off the planks,
``Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins.''
And Kung smiled upon all of them equally.
And Thseng-sie desired to know:
``Which had answered correctly?''
And Kung said, ``They have all answered correctly,
``That is to say, each in his nature.''
And Kung raised his cane against Yuan Jang,
Yuan Jang being his elder,
For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to
be receiving wisdom.
And Kung said
``You old fool, come out of it,
``Get up and do something useful.''
And Kung said
``Respect a child's faculties
``From the moment it inhales the clear air,
``But a man of fifty who knows nothng
Is worthy of no respect.''
And "When the prince has gathered about him
``All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed.''
And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves:
If a man have not order within him
He can not spread order about him;
And if a man have not order within him
His family will not act with due order;
And if the prince have not order within him

[...] Read more

poem by Ezra Pound
Added by Poetry Lover
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