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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341877" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>What Grandfather Said</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(_An epistle from a narrow-minded old gentleman to a young artist of<br>superior intellect and intense realism._)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Your thoughts are for the poor and weak?<br>Ah, no, the picturesque's your passion!<br>Your tongue is always in your cheek<br>At poverty that's not in fashion.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You like a ploughman's rugged face,<br>Or painted eyes in Piccadilly;<br>But bowler hats are commonplace,<br>And thread-bare tradesmen simply silly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The clerk that sings 'God save the King,'<br>And still believes his Tory paper,--<br>You hate the anæmic fool? I thought<br>You loved the weak! Was that all vapour?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, when you sneer, dear democrat,<br>At such a shiny-trousered Tory<br>Because he doffs his poor old hat<br>To what he thinks his country's glory,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To you it's just a coloured rag.<br>You hate the 'patriots' that bawl so.<br>Well, my Ulysses, there's a flag<br>That lifts men in Republics also.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No doubt his thoughts are cruder far;<br>And, where those linen folds are shaking,<br>Perhaps he sees a kind of star<br>Because his eyes are tired and aching.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Banal enough! Banal as truth!<br>But I'm not thinking of his banners.<br>I'm thinking of his pinched white youth<br>And your disgusting 'new art' manners.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His meek submission stirs your hate?<br>Better, my lad, if you're so fervent,<br>Turn your cold steel against the State<br>Instead of sneering at the servant.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He does his job. He draws his pay.<br>You sneer, and dine with those that pay him;<br>And then you write a snobbish play<br>For democrats, in which you play him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, yes, you like simplicity<br>That sucks its cheeks to make the dimple.<br>But this domestic bourgeoisie<br>You hate,--because it's all too simple.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You hate the hearth, the wife, the child,<br>You hate the heavens that bend above them.<br>Your simple folk must all run wild<br>Like jungle-beasts before you love them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You own a house in Cheyne Walk,<br>(You say it costs three thousand fully)<br>Where subtle snobs can talk and talk<br>And play the intellectual bully.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes. I say 'snobs.' Are names alone<br>Free from all change? Your word 'Victorian'<br>Could bite and sting in ninety one<br>But now--it's deader than the saurian.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You think I live in yesterday,<br>Because I think your way the wrong one;<br>But I have hewed and ploughed my way,<br>And--unlike yours--it's been a long one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I let Victoria toll her bell,<br>And went with Strindberg for a ride, sir.<br>I've fought through your own day as well,<br>And come out on the other side, sir,--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The further side, the morning side,<br>I read free verse (the Psalms) on Sunday.<br>But I've decided (you'll decide)<br>That there is room for song on Monday.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've seen the new snob on his way,<br>The intellectual snob I mean, sir,<br>The artist snob, in book and play,<br>Kicking his mother round the scene, sir.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've heard the Tories talk like fools;<br>And the rich fool that apes the Tory.<br>I've seen the shopmen break your rules<br>And die like Christ, in Christ's own glory.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, as for you, that liberal sneer<br>Reminds me of the poor old Kaiser.<br>He was a 'socialist,' my dear.<br>Well, I'm your grandson. You'll grow wiser.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Noyes">Alfred Noyes</a><div class=q>
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superior intellect and intense realism._)


Your thoughts are for the poor and weak?
Ah, no, the picturesque's your passion!
Your tongue is always in your cheek
At poverty that's..."></div>
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