The Legends Of Evil
This is the sorrowful story
Told when the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together
Holding their neighbours' tails: --
"Our fathers lived in the forest,
Foolish people were they,
They went down to the cornland
To teach the farmers to play.
"Our fathers frisked in the millet,
Our fathers skipped in the wheat,
Our fathers hung from the branches,
Our fathers danced in the street.
"Then came the terrible farmers,
Nothing of play they knew,
Only. . .they caught our fathers
And set them to labour too!
"Set them to work in the cornland
With ploughs and sickles and flails,
Put them in mud-walled prisons
And -- cut off their beautiful tails!
"Now, we can watch our fathers,
Sullen and bowed and old,
Stooping over the millet,
Sharing the silly mould,
"Driving a foolish furrow,
Mending a muddy yoke,
Sleeping in mud-walled prisons,
Steeping their food in smoke.
"We may not speak to our fathers,
For if the farmers knew
They would come up to the forest
And set us to labour too."
This is the horrible story
Told as the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together
Holding their kinsmen's tails.
II
'Twas when the rain fell steady an' the Ark was pitched an' ready,
That Noah got his orders for to take the bastes below;
He dragged them all together by the horn an' hide an' feather,
An' all excipt the Donkey was agreeable to go.
Thin Noah spoke him fairly, thin talked to him sevarely,
An' thin he cursed him squarely to the glory av the Lord: --
"Divil take the ass that bred you, and the greater ass that fed you --
Divil go wid you, ye spalpeen!" an' the Donkey went aboard.
But the wind was always failin', an' 'twas most onaisy sailin',
An' the ladies in the cabin couldn't stand the stable air;
An' the bastes betwuxt the hatches, they tuk an' died in batches,
Till Noah said: -- "There's wan av us that hasn't paid his fare!"
For he heard a flusteration 'mid the bastes av all creation --
The trumpetin' av elephints an' bellowin' av whales;
An' he saw forninst the windy whin he wint to stop the shindy
The Divil wid a stable-fork bedivillin' their tails.
The Divil cursed outrageous, but Noah said umbrageous: --
"To what am I indebted for this tenant-right invasion?"
An' the Divil gave for answer: -- "Evict me if you can, sir,
For I came in wid the Donkey -- on Your Honour's invitation."
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Related quotes
The Legend Of Evil
I
This is the sorrowful story
Told when the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together
Holding their neighbours' tails: --
"Our fathers lived in the forest,
Foolish people were they,
They went down to the cornland
To teach the farmers to play.
"Our fathers frisked in the millet,
Our fathers skipped in the wheat,
Our fathers hung from the branches,
Our fathers danced in the street.
"Then came the terrible farmers,
Nothing of play they knew,
Only. . .they caught our fathers
And set them to labour too!
"Set them to work in the cornland
With ploughs and sickles and flails,
Put them in mud-walled prisons
And -- cut off their beautiful tails!
"Now, we can watch our fathers,
Sullen and bowed and old,
Stooping over the millet,
Sharing the silly mould,
"Driving a foolish furrow,
Mending a muddy yoke,
Sleeping in mud-walled prisons,
Steeping their food in smoke.
"We may not speak to our fathers,
For if the farmers knew
They would come up to the forest
And set us to labour too."
This is the horrible story
Told as the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together
Holding their kinsmen's tails.
II
'Twas when the rain fell steady an' the Ark was pitched an' ready,
That Noah got his orders for to take the bastes below;
He dragged them all together by the horn an' hide an' feather,
An' all excipt the Donkey was agreeable to go.
Thin Noah spoke him fairly, thin talked to him sevarely,
An' thin he cursed him squarely to the glory av the Lord: --
"Divil take the ass that bred you, and the greater ass that fed you --
Divil go wid you, ye spalpeen!" an' the Donkey went aboard.
But the wind was always failin', an' 'twas most onaisy sailin',
An' the ladies in the cabin couldn't stand the stable air;
An' the bastes betwuxt the hatches, they tuk an' died in batches,
Till Noah said: -- "There's wan av us that hasn't paid his fare!"
For he heard a flusteration 'mid the bastes av all creation --
The trumpetin' av elephints an' bellowin' av whales;
An' he saw forninst the windy whin he wint to stop the shindy
The Divil wid a stable-fork bedivillin' their tails.
The Divil cursed outrageous, but Noah said umbrageous: --
"To what am I indebted for this tenant-right invasion?"
An' the Divil gave for answer: -- "Evict me if you can, sir,
For I came in wid the Donkey -- on Your Honour's invitation."
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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My little playful monkeys
My little monkeys in the forest are all funny
As usual they jump from vine to vine
And fall and rise, and fall from river to river,
My little monkeys with little tails with little
Mouths and tiny baby-like hands, they wink
And play and chase and run and almost like bats
Flying from top to top of treetops from branch
To branch to twigs to twigs, all these cute
Little monkeys so playfully playful in the forest,
In my mind, I play with all of them throughout
The day, till noon, till afternoon, till nights even,
But no, when darkness comes, these cute little
Monkeys all return to bigger higher trees where
Their big monkey-mothers and big-monkey-fathers
Wait and care for them and all hide them in their arms.
And I am all left alone, like little Tarzan boy in an empty cave
feeling so deserted and betrayed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poetics
You know the old story Ann Landers tells
About the houseife in her basement doing the wash?
She's wearing her nightie, and she thinks, "Well, hell,
I might's well put this in as well," and then
Being dripped on by a leaky pipe puts on
Her son's football helmet; whereupon
The meter reader happens to walk through
and "Lady," he gravely says, "I sure hope your team wins."
A story many times told in many ways,
The set of random accidents redeemed
By one more accident, as though chaos
Were the order that was before the creation came.
That is the way things happen in the world:
A joke, a disappointment satisfied,
As we walk through doing our daily round,
Reading the meter, making things add up.
poem by Howard Nemerov
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There was a land where lived no violets
There was a land where lived no violets.
A traveller at once demanded : "Why?"
The people told him:
"Once the violets of this place spoke thus:
'Until some woman freely gives her lover
To another woman
We will fight in bloody scuffle.'"
Sadly the people added:
"There are no violets here."
poem by Stephen Crane
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Sky Song
The flower of the Alps told the seashell: "You're shining"
The seashell told the sea: "You echo"
The sea told the boat: "You're shuddering"
The boat told the fire: "You're glowing brightly"
The fire told me: "I glow less brightly than her eyes"
The boat told me: "I shudder less than your heart does when she appears"
The sea told me: "I echo less than her name does in your love-making"
The seashell told me: "I shine less brightly than the phosphorus of desire in your hollow dream"
The flower of the Alps told me: "She's beautiful"
I said: "She's beautiful, so beautiful, she moves me."
poem by Robert Desnos
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To Distinguish A Farm From A Forest
the child in her cannot yet
distinguish a farm from a forest
that having seen for the first time
a bunkhouse beneath those coconut trees
she told her mommy that
they are now in the forest and that
she plans to write about
tarzan and jane,
and the monkeys and tigers,
sometimes i miss kids and sometimes
i think i could have been a better teacher
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Richard Bone
When I first came to Spoon River
I did not know whether what they told me
Was true or false.
They would bring me an epitaph
And stand around the shop while I worked
And say "He was so kind," "He was wonderful,"
"She was the sweetest woman," "He was a consistent Christian."
And I chiseled for them whatever they wished,
All in ignorance of its truth.
But later, as I lived among the people here,
I knew how near to the life
Were the epitaphs that were ordered for them when they died.
But still I chiseled whatever they paid me to chisel
And made myself party to the false chronicles
Of the stones,
Even as the historian does who writes
Without knowing the truth,
Or because he is influenced to hide it.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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More Fun Than A Barrel Of Monkeys
there are multiple questions pertaining to the concept,
'more fun than a barrel of monkeys.'
how big is the barrel?
how many monkeys are we talking about?
how big are the monkeys? Are we talking spider monkeys, chimps, baboons or what?
Are the monkeys old or young and where's the barrel, inside or outside?
If you leave the monkeys in the barrel, you got a problem:
they'll die in their own excrement,
if you lift the lid and let them out,
they might kill you.
a monkey can rip out your eyes, is that fun?
monkeys, leaping and running around the house, can do a lot of damage, is that fun?
monkeys are dirty, so... what exactly do you consider fun?
what's it going to be like trying to get the monkeys back in the barrel?
would that be fun?
what would the neighbors think of you, if you released the monkeys into their yards?
what happens if the police gets involved?
it could mean everything imaginable is more fun than a barrel of these animals.
maybe even more fun than a barrel of human beings.
poem by Richard Jarboe
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Aner Clute
Over and over they used to ask me,
While buying the wine or the beer,
In Peoria first, and later in Chicago,
Denver, Frisco, New York, wherever I lived,
How I happened to lead the life,
And what was the start of it.
Well, I told them a silk dress,
And a promise of marriage from a rich man --
(It was Lucius Atherton).
But that was not really it at all.
Suppose a boy steals an apple
From the tray at the grocery store,
And they all begin to call him a thief,
The editor, minister, judge, and all the people --
"A thief," "a thief," "a thief," wherever he goes.
And he can't get work, and he can't get bread
Without stealing it, why, the boy will steal.
It's the way the people regard the theft of the apple
That makes the boy what he is.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Foolish Insecurity
Early in the twilight
I wandered all about
Thinking why I was wandering
wondering about the doubt.
The doubt occurred periodically
and never seemed to abate.
This lack of trust is haunting
and frightening as I wait
for assurance from your silent lips
that my uncertainty is for naught.
Let me hear aloud once more
that which it is I've sought.
which is buried in my foolish pride
and won't allow me peace.
Tomorrow in the twilight
as I wander all about.
I will ask that you remember me anew.
And if you do I'll shout.
"He loves me."
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Morality Pity Conscience Fails To Bridge Extreme Gaps
poverty safely sealed
vast continents away
is desirable who desires
to smell death
choking on perfume
disease stench
causing stomach to heave
flowers ulcers erupts across
stripped desolate landscapes
"we live
as they die
is a walk
between worlds"
morality pity conscience
fails to bridge extreme gaps
"we live as they die is a walk between worlds"
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Try Again
Later that evening, only a feeling
But it was there in the air that we share in the twilight
Humming a sad song, where was our day gone
But in the dark was a spark, a remark I remember
"Try again", she replied to some story I told
"Try again", yes I will if I can
Oh, all I need is somebody to hold
Learning a feeling, seeking a meaning
Finding a way, should she stay, how to say let's imagine
Maybe I'll go wrong, an evening that last long
But in the night all the light must be right for this moment
"Try again", she replied to some story I told
"Try again", yes I will if I can
Oh, all I need is somebody to hold
"Try again", she replied to some story I told
"Try again", yes I will if I can
Oh, all I need is somebody to hold
"Try again", she replied to some story I told
"Try again", yes I will if I can
Oh, all I need is somebody to hold
Submitted by Michael Hack
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forever
"Forever": 'tis a single word!
Our rude forefathers deemed it two:
Can you imagine so absurd
A view?
"Forever"! What abysms of woe
The word reveals, what frenzy, what
Despair! "For ever" (printed so)
Did not.
It looks, ah me! how trite and tame!
It fails to sadden or appal
Or solace--it is not the same
At all.
O thou to whom it first occurred
To solder the disjoined, and dower
The native language with a word
Of power:
We bless thee! Whether far or near
Thy dwelling, whether dark or fair
Thy kingly brow, is neither here
Nor there.
But in men's hearts shall be thy throne,
While the great pulse of England beats.
Thou coiner of a word unknown
To Keats!
And nevermore must printer do
As men did long ago; but run
"For" into "ever," bidding two
Be one.
"Forever"! passion-fraught, it throws
O'er the dim page a gloom, a glamour:
It's sweet, it's strange; and I suppose
It's grammar.
"Forever"! 'Tis a single word!
And yet our fathers deemed it two:
Nor am I confident they erred;
Are you?
poem by Charles Stuart Calverley
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What is—
215
What is—"Paradise"—
Who live there—
Are they "Farmers"—
Do they "hoe"—
Do they know that this is "Amherst"—
And that I—am coming—too—
Do they wear "new shoes"—in "Eden"—
Is it always pleasant—there—
Won't they scold us—when we're homesick—
Or tell God—how cross we are—
You are sure there's such a person
As "a Father"—in the sky—
So if I get lost—there—ever—
Or do what the Nurse calls "die"—
I shan't walk the "Jasper"—barefoot—
Ransomed folks—won't laugh at me—
Maybe—"Eden" a'n't so lonesome
As New England used to be!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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There was one I met upon the road
There was one I met upon the road
Who looked at me with kind eyes.
He said, "Show me of your wares."
And this I did,
Holding forth one.
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
And so to the end;
Always he said, "It is a sin."
And, finally, I cried out,
"But I have none other."
Then did he look at me
With kinder eyes.
"Poor soul!" he said.
poem by Stephen Crane
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At Lulworth Cove a Century Back
Had I but lived a hundred years ago
I might have gone, as I have gone this year,
By Warmwell Cross on to a Cove I know,
And Time have placed his finger on me there:
"You see that man?" -- I might have looked, and said,
"O yes: I see him. One that boat has brought
Which dropped down Channel round Saint Alban's Head.
So commonplace a youth calls not my thought."
"You see that man?" -- "Why yes; I told you; yes:
Of an idling town-sort; thin; hair brown in hue;
And as the evening light scants less and less
He looks up at a star, as many do."
"You see that man?" -- "Nay, leave me!" then I plead,
"I have fifteen miles to vamp across the lea,
And it grows dark, and I am weary-kneed:
I have said the third time; yes, that man I see!"
"Good. That man goes to Rome -- to death, despair;
And no one notes him now but you and I:
A hundred years, and the world will follow him there,
And bend with reverence where his ashes lie."
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Its The Same Old Story
M. field / n. oliphant
The same old story
Its as old as the stars above
The same old story
Of a boy and a girl in love
The scenes say more moonlight
The times say more june light
Romances the thing
Two hearts away deep in a dream
The same old story
Its been told much too much before
The same old story
But its worth telling just once more
Its all fun and laughter
They lived ever after in ecstacy
The same old story but its new to me
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have lived with Shades
I
I have lived with Shades so long,
So long have talked to them,
I sped to street and throng,
That sometimes they
In their dim style
Will pause awhile
To hear my say;
II
And take me by the hand,
And lead me through their rooms
In the To-Be, where Dooms
Half-wove and shapeless stand:
And show from there
The dwindled dust
And rot and rust
Of things that were.
III
"Now turn," they said to me
One day: "Look whence we came,
And signify his name
Who gazes thence at thee" --
-- "Nor name nor race
Know I, or can,"
I said, "Of man
So commonplace."
IV
"He moves me not at all:
I note no ray or jot
Of rareness in his lot,
Or star exceptional.
Into the dim
Dead throngs around
He'll sink, nor sound
Be left of him."
V
"Yet," said they, "his frail speech,
Hath accents pitched like thine --
Thy mould and his define
A likeness each to each --
But go! Deep pain
Alas, would be
His name to thee,
And told in vain!"
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Twilight
I look into his eyes, there are closed
But I see something.
A teacher told me why, I laugh
When old men cry.
My body grows and grows,
It fightens me you know.
The old man tried to walk me home.
I thought he should have known.
Twilight,
Twilight, lost my way.
Twilight, night and day.
Twilight, cant find my way.
(in the shadow boy meets man
In the shadow boy meets man).
Im running in the rain.
Im caught in a late night play.
Its all and everything.
Im soaking through the skin.
Twilight, darkened day.
Twilight, lost my way.
Twilight, cant find my way.
(in the shadow boy meets man
In the shadow boy meets man).
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain and the Robin
A ROBIN in the morning,
In the morning early,
Sang a song of warning,
"There'll be rain, there'll be rain."
Very,very clearly
From the orchard
Came the gentle horning,
"There'll be rain."
But the hasty farmer
Cut his hay down,
Did not heed the charmer
From the orchard,
And the mower's clatter
Ceased at noontide,
For with drip and spatter
Down came the rain.
Then the prophet robin
Hidden in the crab-tree
Railed upon the farmer,
"I told you so, I told you so."
As the rain grew stronger,
And his heart grew prouder,
Notes so full and slow
Coming blither, louder,
"I told you so, I told you so,"
"I told you so."
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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