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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357888" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Glug Quest</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Follow the river and cross the ford,<br>Follow again to the wobbly bridge,<br>Turn to the left at the notice board,<br>Climbing the cow-track over the ridge;<br>Tip-toe soft by the little red house,<br>Hold your breath if they touch the latch,<br>Creep to the slip-rails, still as a mouse,<br>Then . . . run like mad for the bracken patch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Worm your way where the fern fronds tall<br>Fashion a lace-work over your head,<br>Hemming you in with a high, green wall;<br>Then, when the thrush calls once, stop dead.<br>Ask of the old grey wallaby there<br>Him prick-eared by the woollybutt tree<br>How to encounter a Glug, and where<br>The country of Gosh, famed Gosh may be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, if he is scornful, if he is dumb,<br>Hush! There's another way left. Then come.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On a white, still night, where the dead tree bends<br>Over the track, like a waiting ghost,<br>Travel the winding road that wends<br>Down to the shore on an Eastern coast.<br>Follow it down where the wake of the moon<br>Kisses the ripples of silver sand;<br>Follow it on where the night seas croon<br>A traveller's tale to the listening land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Step not jauntily, not too grave,<br>Till the lip of the languorous sea you greet;<br>Wait till the wash of the thirteenth wave<br>Tumbles a jellyfish out at your feet.<br>Not too hopefully, not forlorn,<br>Whisper a word of your earnest quest;<br>Shed not a tear if he turns in scorn<br>And sneers in your face like a fish possessed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hist! Hope on! There is yet a way.<br>Brooding jellyfish won't be gay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wait till the clock in the tower booms three,<br>And the big bank opposite gnashes its doors,<br>Then glide with a gait that is carefully free<br>By the great brick building of seventeen floors;<br>Haste by the draper who smirks at his door,<br>Straining to lure you with sinister force,<br>Turn up the lane by the second-hand store,<br>And halt by the light bay carrier's horse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By the carrier's horse with the long, sad face<br>And the wisdom of years in his mournful eye;<br>Bow to him thrice with a courtier's grace,<br>Proffer your query, and pause for reply.<br>Eagerly ask for a hint of the Glug,<br>Pause for reply with your hat in your hand;<br>If he responds with a snort and a shrug<br>Strive to interpret and understand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rare will a carrier's horse condescend.<br>Yet there's another way. On to the end!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Catch the four-thirty; your ticket in hand,<br>Punched by the porter who broods in his box;<br>Journey afar to the sad, soggy land,<br>Wearing your shot-silk lavender socks.<br>Wait at the creek by the moss-grown log<br>Till the blood of a slain day reddens the West.<br>Hark for the croak of a gentleman frog,<br>Of a corpulent frog with a white satin vest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go as he guides you, over the marsh,<br>Treading with care on the slithery stones,<br>Heedless of night winds moaning and harsh<br>That seize you and freeze you and search for your bones.<br>On to the edge of a still, dark pool,<br>Banishing thoughts of your warm wool rug;<br>Gaze in the depths of it, placid and cool,<br>And long in your heart for one glimpse of a Glug.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Krock!' Was he mocking you? 'Krock! Kor-r-rock!'<br>Well, you bought a return, and it's past ten o'clock.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Choose you a night when the intimate stars<br>Carelessly prattle of cosmic affairs.<br>Flat on your back, with your nose pointing Mars,<br>Search for the star who fled South from the Bears.<br>Gaze for an hour at that little blue star,<br>Giving him, cheerfully, wink for his wink;<br>Shrink to the size of the being you are;<br>Sneeze if you have to, but softly; then think.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Throw wide the portals and let your thoughts run<br>Over the earth like a galloping herd.<br>Bounds to profundity let there be none,<br>Let there be nothing too madly absurd.<br>Ponder on pebbles or stock exchange shares,<br>On the mission of man or the life of a bug, <br>On planets or billiards, policemen or bears,<br>Alert all the time for the sight of a Glug.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Meditate deeply on softgoods or sex,<br>On carraway seeds or the causes of bills, <br>Biology, art, or mysterious wrecks,<br>Or the tattered white fleeces of clouds on blue hills. <br>Muse upon ologies, freckles and fog,<br>Why hermits live lonely and grapes in a bunch, <br>On the ways of a child or the mind of a dog,<br>Or the oyster you bolted last Friday at lunch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heard you no sound like a shuddering sigh! <br>Or the great shout of laughter that swept down the sky? <br>Saw you no sign on the wide Milky Way? <br>Then there's naught left to you now but to pray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sit you at eve when the Shepherd in Blue<br>Calls from the West to his clustering sheep. <br>Then pray for the moods that old mariners woo,<br>For the thoughts of young mothers who watch their babes sleep.<br>Pray for the heart of an innocent child,<br>For the tolerant scorn of a weary old man, <br>For the petulant grief of a prophet reviled,<br>For the wisdom you lost when your whiskers began.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pray for the pleasures that he who was you<br>Found in the mud of a shower-fed pool, <br>For the fears that he felt and the joys that he knew<br>When a little green lizard crept into the school. <br>Pray as they pray who are maddened by wine:<br>For distraction from self and a spirit at rest.<br>Now, deep in the heart of you search for a sign <br>If there be naught of it, vain is your quest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lay down the book, for to follow the tale <br>Were to trade in false blame, as all mortals who fail. <br>And may the gods salve you on life's dreary round; <br>For 'tis whispered: 'Who finds not, 'tis he shall be found !'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357888" data-title="The Glug Quest de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="Follow the river and cross the ford,
Follow again to the wobbly bridge,
Turn to the left at the notice board,
Climbing the cow-track over the ridge;
Tip-toe soft by the little red house,
Hold your breath if they touch the latch,
Creep to the slip-..."></div>
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