posted
My favourite poet! Just consider the lament for lost safety in "The Dykes" :
quote: We have no heart for the fishing – we have no hand for the oar – All that our fathers taught us of old pleases us now no more. All that our own hearts bid us believe we doubt where we do not deny – There is no proof in the bread we eat nor rest in the toil we ply.
Look you, our foreshore stretches far through sea-gate, dyke and groin – Made land all, that our fathers made, where the flats and the fairway join. They forced the sea a sea-league back. They died, and their work stood fast. We were born to peace in the lee of the dykes, but the time of our peace is past.
Far off, the full tide clambers and slips, mouthing and resting all, Nipping the flanks of the water-gates, baying along the wall; Turning the shingle, returning the shingle, changing the set of the sand... We are too far from the beach, men say, to know how the outworks stand.
So we come down, uneasy, to look; uneasily pacing the beach. These are the dykes our fathers made: we have never known a breach. Time and again has the gale blown by and we were not afraid; Now we come only to look at the dykes – at the dykes our fathers made.
O’er the marsh where the homesteads cower apart the harried sunlight flies, Shifts and considers, wanes and recovers, scatters and sickens and dies – An evil ember bedded in ash – a spark blown west by wind... We are surrendered to night and the sea – the gale and the tide behind!
At the bridge of the lower saltings the cattle gather and blare, Roused by the feet of running men, dazed by the lantern-glare. Unbar and let them away for their lives – the levels drown as they stand, Where the flood-wash forces the sluices aback and the ditches deliver inland.
Ninefold deep to the top of the dykes the galloping breakers stride, And their overcarried spray is a sea – a sea of the landward side. Coming, like stallions they paw with their hooves, going they snatch with their teeth, Till the bents and the furze and the sand are dragged out, and the old-time hurdles beneath.
Bid men gather fuel for fire, the tar, the oil and tow – Flame we shall need, not smoke, in the dark if the riddled sea-banks go. Bid the ringers watch in the tower (who knows how the dawn shall prove?) Each with his rope between his feet and the trembling bells above.
Now we can only wait till the day, wait and apportion our shame. These are the dykes our fathers left, but we would not look to the same. Time and again were we warned of the dykes, time and again we delayed. Now, it may fall, we have slain our sons, as our fathers we have betrayed.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Walking along the wreck of the dykes, watching the works of the sea! These were the dykes our fathers made to our great profit and ease. But the peace is gone and the profit is gone, with the old sure days withdrawn... That our own houses show as strange when we come back in the dawn.
Why isn't there anyone today who can write imagery like that? And the topic, I think, is as applicable today as it was a hundred years ago, if not more so - whether you consider the dykes as being safeguards against terrorists, or against our own governments' eagerness to regulate us.
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posted
Mmm.. I did an entire program of Kipling in speech competition when I was in high school.(Right now I'm hooked on Milton.) He's a wonderful poet, and that's a great poem that I hadn't read before. Thanks for posting it!!
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posted
Yes, "The White Man's Burden" is quite stirring. Maybe its a personal fault, but I just can't enjoy work that includes such.
Posts: 3446 | Registered: Jul 2002
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quote:Much I owe to the Lands that grew - More to the Lives that fed - But most to Allah Who gave me two Separate sides to my head. Much I reflect on the Good and the True In the Faiths beneath the sun, But most upon Allah Who gave me two Sides to my head, not one.
Wesley’s following, Calvin’s flock, White or yellow or bronze, Shaman, Juju or Angekok, Minister, Mukamuk, Bonze -
Here is a health, my brothers, to you, However your prayers are said, And praised be Allah Who gave me two Separate sides to my head!
I would go without shirt or shoe, Friend, tobacco or bread, Sooner than lose for a minute the two Separate sides of my head!
quote:Yes, "The White Man's Burden" is quite stirring. Maybe its a personal fault, but I just can't enjoy work that includes such.
That is indeed a personal fault. Have you actually read the whole poem? It advocates things not entirely different from what the US is doing in Iraq. (Well, maybe you don't approve - but the intention is certainly good.) You might also be interested to know that it was written to welcome the US to the ranks of colonial powers, after your entry into the Philippines.
However, that is all irrelevant. Kipling, as much as you, is a product of his times. Read the good stuff, ignore the bad stuff.
Posts: 10645 | Registered: Jul 2004
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posted
Being a singer of sorts, I like: The Anchor Song by Rudyard Kipling, set to music by Peter Bellamy
Heh! Walk her round. Heave, ah heave her short again! Over, snatch her over, there, and hold her on the pawl. Loose all sail, and brace your yards back and full -- Ready jib to pay her off and heave short all! Well, ah fare you well; we can stay no more with you, my love -- Down, set down your liquor and your girl from off your knee; For the wind has come to say: "You must take me while you may, If you'd go to Mother Carey (Walk her down to Mother Carey!), Oh, we're bound to Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!"
Heh! Walk her round. Break, ah break it out o' that! Break our starboard-bower out, apeak, awash, and clear. Port -- port she casts, with the harbour-mud beneath her foot, And that's the last o' bottom we shall see this year! Well, ah fare you well, for we've got to take her out again -- Take her out in ballast, riding light and cargo-free. And it's time to clear and quit When the hawser grips the bitt, So we'll pay you with the foresheet and a promise from the sea!
Heh! Tally on. Aft and walk away with her! Handsome to the cathead, now; O tally on the fall! Stop, seize and fish, and easy on the davit-guy. Up, well up the fluke of her, and inboard haul! Well, ah fare you well, for the Channel wind's took hold of us, Choking down our voices as we snatch the gaskets free. And it's blowing up for night, And she's dropping Light on Light, And she's snorting under bonnets for a breath of open sea,
Wheel, full and by; but she'll smell her road alone to-night. Sick she is and harbour-sick -- O sick to clear the land! Roll down to Brest with the old Red Ensign over us -- Carry on and thrash her out with all she'll stand! Well, ah fare you well, and it's Ushant slams the door on us, Whirling like a windmill through the dirty scud to lee: Till the last, last flicker goes From the tumbling water-rows, And we're off to Mother Carey (Walk her down to Mother Carey!), Oh, we're bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!
Posts: 116 | Registered: Sep 2004
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quote:In patience to abide, To veil the threat of terror And check the show of pride;
(...) Take up the White Man's burden, The savage wars of peace; Fill full the mouth of Famine And bid the sickness cease;
Is not that what the Americans are trying to do? And yes, Kipling was a racist. So what? The entire population of the world at the time was racist. For his period, Kipling is quite enlightened; consider "Buddha at Kamakura" :
quote:O ye who tread the Narrow Way By Tophet-flare to Judgment Day, Be gentle when "the heathen" pray To Buddha at Kamakura!
To him the Way, the Law, apart, Whom Maya held beneath her heart, Ananda's Lord, the Bodhisat, The Buddha of Kamakura.
For though he neither burns nor sees, Nor hears ye thank your Deities, Ye have not sinned with such as these, His children at Kamakura,
Yet spare us still the Western joke When joss-sticks turn to scented smoke The little sins of little folk That worship at Kamakura --
The grey-robed, gay-sashed butterflies That flit beneath the Master's eyes. He is beyond the Mysteries But loves them at Kamakura.
And whoso will, from Pride released, Contemning neither creed nor priest, May feel the Soul of all the East About him at Kamakura.
Yea, every tale Ananda heard, Of birth as fish or beast or bird, While yet in lives the Master stirred, The warm wind brings Kamakura.
Till drowsy eyelids seem to see A-flower 'neath her golden htee The Shwe-Dagon flare easterly From Burmah to Kamakura,
And down the loaded air there comes The thunder of Thibetan drums, And droned -- "Om mane padme hums" -- A world's-width from Kamakura.
Yet Brahmans rule Benares still, Buddh-Gaya's ruins pit the hill, And beef-fed zealots threaten ill To Buddha and Kamakura.
A tourist-show, a legend told, A rusting bulk of bronze and gold, So much, and scarce so much, ye hold The meaning of Kamakura?
But when the morning prayer is prayed, Think, ere ye pass to strife and trade, Is God in human image made No nearer than Kamakura?
posted
The issue isn't that they are going to war, its the purpose of the war. It's like saying songs that insprired Germans to join the German army during WW2 are the same as songs inspiring Americans to join the military after Pearl Harbor.
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posted
It's interesting how the attempt to "fill full the mouth of famine and bid the sickness cease" turned so sour in time, and I wonder why that should happen...
Posts: 1114 | Registered: Mar 2004
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quote: And yes, Kipling was a racist. So what? The entire population of the world at the time was racist.
Maybe. I'm not sure.
After a night of work and thought, I remembered some bits of poems that were written in response to Kipling--they were in a history book in my high school. I don't recall where they were written--perhaps in newspapers (I think White Man's Burden was in some form of editorial space). There were four of them printed; unfortunately I only remember the shortest one in full, and only the title line of one of the others, which was "Pile on the brown man's burden". The one I remember completely, though not particularly anti-racist, should give Bush fans pause:
quote: We've taken up the white man's burden Of ebony and brown. Now will you tell us, Rudyard, How we may put it down?
posted
Yes, Kipling was a rascist by our current definitions and understanding. He was a man of his time. It is not fair to retroactively impose a morality on those of an earlier time - George Washingtong and Lincoln were rascists by our current standards as well.
It does mean that some of the short stories and poems make very uncomfortable reading now, but I think we can choose the best of what he said and chalk up the rest to history.
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