Translations from The Chinese

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<bR> <div> <TABLE BORDER="2" CELLPADDING="2" CELLSPACING="1" WIDTH="458" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="BOX" RULES="ALL" ALIGN="LEFT" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=TOP HEIGHT= 36654 WIDTH="446"><div>  </div> <bR> <bR> <div> TRANSLATIONS</div> <div> FROM THE</div> <div> CHINESE</div> <bR> <div> .     .</div> <div> .</div> <bR> <div> CHRISTOPHER MORLEY</div> <bR> <div> <I>By Christopher Morley</I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> CHIMNEYSMOKE</div> <div> TRANSLATIONS OF THE CHINESE</div> <div> HIDE AND SEEK</div> <div> THE ROCKING HORSE</div> <div> MINCE PIE</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>New York: George H. Doran Company</I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> TRANSLATIONS</div> <div> FROM THE</div> <div> CHINESE</div> <bR> <bR> <div> BY</div> <div> CHRISTOPHER MORLEY</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> NEW -G<FONT SIZE="6" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >D</FONT>H- YORK</div> <div> GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> COPYRIGHT,   1922,</div> <div> BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> DEDICATED TO</div> <div> AN ANGLO-AMERICAN MANDARIN</div> <div> IN   WHOSE   HEART   ARE   MANY</div> <div> CELESTIAL   INSCRIPTIONS</div> <div> LOGAN PEARSALL SMITH</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>A  Letter  of  Ballast</I></div> <bR> <div> Dear Pearsall Smith:</div> <div>      All things, however minute, have their origin; and these fragments, now dedicated to you without your knowledge or permission, were  in genesis  both  hazardous  and  humble.  They were born in a rolltop desk.  In 1918, as you know I was working on the Philadelphia <I>Evening Ledger</I> —where I had charge of a column whose most genuine source of pride was that it first gave printers’ ink to some of your prose butterflies now framed and mounted as <I>Mere Trivia</I>.  At that time I used to write what I call <I>Synthetic Poems</I>,  which  began as a mild burlesque of the vers  libre epidemic.  But I also had a feeling that free verse, then mainly employed as the vehicle as a rather gaudy   impression  of  mere  eccentricity, might prove a viable medium for humorous, ironic and satiric brevities.  I experimented by including a few of the <I>Synthetic Poems</I> in a book which was in general of quite a different kind.  (To gratify the publisher I will mention its title, <I>The Rocking Horse</I>.)  I must admit that no one noticed them. </div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div>      About the same time there arose an access of interest in oriental poem-forms.  You yourself sent me from London a volume of Arthur Waley’s delightful Chinese translations.  Miss </div> <div> viii</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Amy Lowell and others were busy with Japa-nese Echoes.  To paraphrase the old English song, it was “Loud sing Hokku” all across the map.   So  instead  of  <I>Synthetic Poems</I> I  began to call my broodings <I>Translations from the Chinese;</I> and, for some unknown reason, printed them over the bogus signature of “John Cavendish.”  To my surprise and even to my embarrassment, letters soon arrived from earnest literates.  Who was John Cavendish?  they asked.  What about these Translations? they exclaimed.  Where can one learn more about Chinese poetry?  And they enclosed stamped addressed envelopes.  Once more was expressed the beautiful human faculty for tak-ing  seriously  whatever appears in print.  I went ahead, conscientiously, to satisfy the de-mand.  In a little book (again I catch the publishers eye) called <I>Hide and Seek</I> I included a large section of Chinese translations, with biographical notes upon the Oriental authors—</div> <div> done in such a vein that not even the gravest follower of the spurious Cavendish could mis-take the intention.  </div> <div>      But there is a gist of this unimportant mat-ter.  Little by little my Chinese sages began to coalesce and assume a voice of their own.  I became not their creator but their stenographer.  I began to feel a certain respect and affection for the “Old Mandarin” who was dimly emerg-ing as their Oriental spokesman.  I began to realize that the mind speaks many languages, and some of its sudden intuitions and exclama-tions are truly as enigmatic to us as Chinese writing.   We  all  like  to  imagine  that  some-</div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ix</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> where, in some far-away Orient of our spirit, there is a philosophy and a way (as Lao-Tse would say) that views with smiling bland com-posure the sad antics of men under the pressure of conflicting desires.  In all hearts there is this lurking minified Mandarin whose mockery is more potent because it is serene and hopeless.  My own particular Mandarin was born, as I say, in a rolltop desk; by which I mean in a newspaper office.  It’s a favorable place for such cheerfully wistful wraiths to arise, for nowhere so insistently as in a newspaper office does one necessarily scrutinize the gallant frenzy of the race.  </div> <div>      So my Mandarin gradually became a very real Familiar, and sometimes I see him peering out of a pigeon-hole, mocking me in his suave fashion.  The odd thing is that his scoffing fre-quently changes into moods of pity or ecstacy that are even more disconcerting.  In spite of his great age and his disillusion, he has mo-ments that are truly boyish.  We all like to say, of a man we admire greatly, that he “has the heart of a child.”  Certainly there is a naif appealing youthfulness in some of my Man-darins simplicities.  Occasionally, late in a winter afternoon, when I have been (after a whole day of random interruptions) trying to get a few hurried paragraphs written for the newspaper,  I have quietly become aware of him standing by the window at my elbow.  He looks out at the astounding vista of great buildings, terraced in golden tiers, one above another  into  the  transparent  dusk.  “Why don’t you get some of <I>that</I> into your writing?”</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> x</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> he says to me, waving his hand toward the view.  But I don’t have leisure to answer him, for that is the time when I am hurrying to catch the 5:27 train.</div> <div>      Of course he can be very annoying.  It is maddening to hear him contradict and ridicule the compromises and precious makeshifts which we build for self-respect.  I tell him that he is an irresponsible doctrine: he has never had to earn a living, to carry on a daily job, or concern himself with anything but pure ration-alism.  Also, he has the foreigner’s awkward way of taking our idiom literally.  I said to him once, trying to explain a dilema in which I found myself,  “I  am  between  the  Devil  and the Deep Sea.”  He smiled that provoking, sallow, tilt eyed smile of his.  “Surely your choice is easy,” he said, “for you pretend to be fond of the Sea.”  I have tried, in this small book, to translate more or less accurately some of his disturbing comments; but there are many more that I have not been able to render in-telligible.  His dialect is often of a sort not found in the glossaries within my reach; and his principles of judgement are so opposite to those on which most of us establish our daily conduct that, as I have told him, I should need a contradictionary to interpret him properly.  </div> <div>      So I may, here and there, have made him responsible for sentiments and implications that are my own rather than his.   I  wish  I could tell you how strangely wise  and  happy he seems, in those rare moments when I am able to give ear to him.  In spite of his skepticisms, he apparently sees  so much  more  meaning  in</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> xi</div> <bR> <bR> <div> the human panorama than most of us do.  And he has the queerest illusions.  I have seen him throw down a  newspaper  in  distress  because, as  he  said,  he found no word of Beauty in it.  And when I explained to him, patiently, that that particular newspaper was not published with any such intention, he said, “Then, why publish it at all?”</div> <div>      Some of my friends, to whom I have talked about this unsettling phantom, have com-plained that he is really to elderly to be a really helpful companion; that his policies were formed  under  a Bad Old Dynasty;  that  he  is too flippant and volatile to be congenial to Young Intellectuals in whom unorthodoxy has become severe, surly, and compulsory.  But I am not one of those  that  believe  that  because a man is elderly that he is necessarily shallow.  Everyone doubtless considers himself to be wiser, riper, more tolerant, now, than he was one year, five years, ten years ago.  And if we think that to be so of ourselves, why may we not credit it as a fact in others?  When I meet and talk with some of the youngest and most scathing of the rising Intellectuals, I amuse myself by imagining them as they will be say, thirty years hence.  As I listen politely, I can see their faces change and wither.  Those can-did young foreheads a little corrugated; those jovial thunderbolts of opinion a little less de-tonative in effect; those busy superlatives grown a trifle grizzled with service.  No—I have known so many older heads who  really are wiser and wittier than ourselves that I cannot help concluding  Time  may  be  a  tonic</div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> xii</div> <bR> <bR> <div> rather than a sedative.  And so I sincerely elect to Stand Up for the Senior Generation.  (And then also, when I myself an a Senior, perhaps the Grandchildren will Stand Up for me.)</div> <div>      I don’t know just why I should be saying all this to you, dear Pearsall Smith—except that you seem to have been singularly skillful into carrying on into what one may without offence call Maturity the very spirit and virtue of Youth.  I take it that you were perhaps a little elderly in your twenties, which makes you adorably sprightly in your fifties; so much so that you have served in many ways as the per-fect Ambassador from the Men of the Nineties to the Men of the Teens.  In you we see how the irreverent humor and hilarious gusto we associate with youth may not merely perdure unabated  into  the  rich  urbanity  of  Middle Age: nay, that they are increased and quick-ened.  Uncanonical as it may seem, Youth is the time to be docile and acceptive; not until the Fifth Decade has the mind any real right to begin laughing.  Skepticism is meaningless until it emerges from a complete and experi-enced knowledge of all possible beliefs.  Long-fellow (I can hear some of my contemporaries titter)—Longfellow  wrote  an  admirable po-tent little satire in his rhymed description of “What  the  Heart of the  Young Man Said to the Psalmist.”  For that is exactly what the hearts of healthy-minded young men do say, and should say.  It is a delicious picture of that heavenly earnestness of adolescence.  The skepticism of sophomores is only an extroverted form  of  the   same   too   easy   credulity.    No</div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> xiii</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Young Revolutionist is dangerous: it is the Elderly Revolutionist who really makes things revolve.  In the young, skepticism is mere biology and demiurge: in the mature it is in-tellectual.  And as for matters of theology (in which you have betrayed much acute interest), the study of divinity is usually placed at the wrong end of life.  Surely no man should be allowed unanswerably to pulpiteer the Future Life until he himself is near enough to it to make it a reality to his spirit.  But if parsons must be ordained in youth, then they should begin as Bishops, and work downward to the really vital office of curate.  For the Bishop is respectfully harkened to for his dignity and his scarlet hood; but the curate is listened to (if at all) only for what he says.</div> <div>      It seems too bad, I suddenly realize, to make you the victim of this grotesquely irrelevant pronouncement.  But it must stand as your misfortune, since you who write so exquisitely and think with such delicate humorous honesty have shown yourself unwittingly as the ideal liaison officer between the generations.  Those who would try absurdly to persuade us that there is some deep seated and inevitable hos-tility between the Young Men and their Elders can never stir up more than a sham battle while we see you pacing pensively between the op-posing trenches.  After all, the one paramount virtue, not peculiar to any age, is sincerity.</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div>      Which of course suggests the delicious prob-lem as to how far a man may be insincere quite innocently and unconsciously.  That indeed is too perilous to discuss.   But truly I sometimes </div> <div> xiv</div> <bR> <bR> <div> wonder if some of the embattles youths of the Younger Set, who so fiercely defy and reject the wiles of the Foundering Fathers, have ever really seen or known an Older Man?  More-over one is tempted to think  that  those  who are so certain that the Intellect and everything  really  interesting  began  about  the  year  1919 are insecurely rooted in the great soil of life itself.  Considering that every essential joy and agony of the human spirit was already Old Stuff when Lucretius wrote, that view seems to show a disrespect to Life itself—a serious disability in any artist.</div> <div>      Alas, I have now far overshot my mark, and after  these  heroics  I  fear  my  darling  Old Mandarin will seem rather tame.   You your-self, dear Pearsall Smith, with your keen ex-cisive sense, could have intimated all this in one glittering page.</div> <bR> <div>                         Yours indeed,</div> <div>                                   C<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HRISTOPHER</FONT> M<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >ORLEY </FONT></div> <div> <I>New York,</I></div> <div> <I>March, 1922</I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div>  <A NAME="contents"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>CONTENTS</div> <bR> <div> <FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" ><I>The Palimpsest</I></FONT>, 19</div> <div> A TIME OF CRISIS, 21</div> <div> INSCRIPTION FOR A BUTTERFLY’S WING, 22</div> <div> ADVICE TO THOSE HIRING YOUNG MANDARINS, 23</div> <div> INSCRIPTION FOR A MAN-HOLE IN BROOKLYN, 24</div> <div> INSCRIPTION FOR A DOOR KNOCKER ON TENTH</div> <div>           STREET, 25</div> <div> “THE SUN’S OVER THE FOREYARD,” 26</div> <div> THE OLD MANDARIN ON HIS TRAVELS, 27</div> <div> AN AMERICAN MYSTIC, 28</div> <div> HE LIKES TO GIVE BOTH SIDES OF THE MAT-</div> <div>           TER, 29</div> <div> HE PASSES ON THE GOOD WORD, 30</div> <div> THE OLD MANDARIN GRIEVES, 31</div> <div> A LETTER TO HIS FRIEND HO KUM, 32</div> <div> VIGNETTE OF A POET, 33</div> <div> VERY FEW REMEMBER, 34</div> <div> THOUGHTS IN A KITCHEN, 35</div> <div> ONLY WORD OF MOUTH, 36</div> <div> CERTAINTY, 37</div> <div> A LETTER TO HIS FRIEND MU KOW, 38</div> <div> HE COMFORTS HIMSELF, 40</div> <div> HE IS ONLY HUMAN, 41</div> <div> A MOMENT OF MEDITATION, 42</div> <div> LITTLE MINDS EVERYWHERE THE SAME, 43</div> <div> AN ENIGMA IN THE WOODPILE, 44</div> <div> HIS EXPERIENCE WITH THE NEWSPAPERS, 45</div> <div> DEUS HAEC OTIA FECIT, 47</div> <div> BURROWING LIKE A MOLE, 48</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> xv</div> <div> THE HUBBUB OF THE UNIVERSE, 49</div> <div> AN ARTIST, 50</div> <div> A PATTERN IN THE MUD, 51</div> <div> THE CIGARETTE STUB, 52</div> <div> TO HIS SERVING MAID, 53</div> <div> CONTRADICTION, 55</div> <div> EXEMPT, 56</div> <div> MEDITATIONS ON POETRY, 57</div> <div> A PRAGMATIST, 58</div> <div> A HAPPY LIFE, 59</div> <div> A NATIONAL FRAILTY, 60</div> <div> THE MAN WITH THE RAKE, 61</div> <div> VERITAS VOS DAMNABIT, 63</div> <div> ANOTHER POSTPONEMENT, 64</div> <div> ADVANTAGE OF A BOOKISH UPBRINGING, 65</div> <div> (A + B)², 67</div> <div> SECRET THOUGHTS, 68</div> <div> THE REALIST, 69</div> <div> OVERDUE, 70</div> <div> ONEIROMANCY, 71</div> <div> MUTUAL ESTEEM, 72</div> <div> APOCALYPSE, 73</div> <div> SUNK WITHOUT A TRACE, 74</div> <div> IRRITATION OF THE OLD MANDARIN, 75</div> <div> HE BROODS, 76</div> <div> BIVALVES, 77</div> <div> ETERNITY AND THE TOOTH, 78</div> <div> A PROVERB, 79</div> <div> THE TOLERATOR, 80</div> <div> THE PAINTER, 81</div> <div> THE POET, 82</div> <div> ADJUSTMENT, 83</div> <div> ANTICRASTINATION, 84</div> <div> OH, INEQUITABLE BUILDINGS! 85</div> <div> TICK DOULOUREAUX, 86</div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> TRANSLATIONS</div> <div> FROM THE CHINESE</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_palimpsest"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>The Palimpsest</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>T</I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" ><I>here is in each mans heart,</I></FONT></div> <div> <I> Chinese writing—</I></div> <div> <I>A secret script, a cryptic language:</I></div> <div> <I>The strange ideographs of the spirit,</I></div> <div> <I>Scribbled over or half erased</I></div> <div> <I>By the swift stenography of daily life.</I></div> <bR> <div> <I>No man can easily decipher this cordi-</I></div> <div> <I>     script,</I></div> <div> <I>This blurred text corrupted by fears</I></div> <div> <I>     and follies;</I></div> <div> <I>But now and then,</I></div> <div> <I>Reading his own heart</I></div> <div> <I>(So little studied, such fine reading </I></div> <div> <I>     matter!)</I></div> <div> <I>He sees fragments of rubric shine </I></div> <div> <I>     through—</I></div> <div> <I>Old words of truth and trouble</I></div> <div> <I>Illuminated, red and gold.</I></div> <div> <I>the study of this hidden language</I></div> <div> <I>Is what I call</I></div> <div> <I>Translations from the Chinese.</I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 21</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="a_time_of_crisis"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>A TIME OF CRISIS</div> <bR> <bR> <div> O<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >N a thin blue morning</FONT></div> <div>   Of the Month of Officials</div> <div>  Came Noh Kale, the income tax</div> <div>           collector.</div> <div> I laid down my roll of Confucius</div> <div> And said: “Friend,</div> <div> My treasure is at your disposal;</div> <div> Let us audit it together—</div> <div> Thirteen unfinished poems,</div> <div> A letter from an editor</div> <div> Saying that a check will be here shortly;</div> <div> My ivory chopsticks,</div> <div> And this view, from my tea house,</div> <div> of the girls bathing on the other side of</div> <div>           the river.”</div> <div> But still the obstinate agent</div> <div> Persisted peevishly</div> <div> And with the reiteration of a primitive</div> <div>           mind cried loudly:</div> <div> “Quarterly installment still due,</div> <div> 1700 taels.”</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 22</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="inscription_for_a_butter_"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>INSCRIPTION FOR A BUTTER-</div> <div> FLY’S WING</div> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HERE were two languages:</FONT></div> <div>  One is of the Great Mandarins and</div> <div>    Important Affairs,</div> <div> It is civil, precise, and meaningless.</div> <div> The other,</div> <div> The Speach of the Spirit,</div> <div> So rarely spoken, so dimly understood,</div> <div> Is haltingly whispered</div> <div> By lonely men.</div> <div> In the first I am glip,</div> <div> In the latter I stammer;</div> <div> But I know which will serve me</div> <div> In the Foreign Land.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 23</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="advice_to_those_hiring"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>ADVICE TO THOSE HIRING</div> <div> YOUNG MANDARINS</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HEN I was private adviser</FONT></div> <div>    To Her Celestial serenity The</div> <div>           Empress</div> <div> It was my duty</div> <div> To interview young Mandarins</div> <div> Applying for important positions.</div> <div> I always chose those who were shy,</div> <div> For shyness in a youth</div> <div> Is commendable.</div> <div> It is a sign that he is aware</div> <div> This is a perplexing world</div> <div> And it is not well to uncover</div> <div> His golden soul</div> <div> To those who would not understand it.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 24</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="inscription_for_a_man_hole"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>INSCRIPTION FOR A MAN-HOLE</div> <div> IN BROOKLYN</div> <bR> <bR> <div> S<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >OMETIMES,</FONT></div> <div>   In spinning over the leaves of a</div> <div>           book,</div> <div> The eye catches a glamourous phrase</div> <div> That a methodical search through the</div> <div>         volume</div> <div> Fails to rediscover.</div> <div> Even so, every day,</div> <div> There are moments of shining astonish-</div> <div>         ment</div> <div> That my sober retrospection</div> <div> Can never define.</div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 25</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="inscription_for_a_door_"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>INSCRIPTION FOR A DOOR-</div> <div> KNOCKER ON TENTH</div> <div> STREET</div> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HERE are some critics</FONT></div> <div>    (Said the Old Mandarin, sip-</div> <div>         ping a <I>petit verre</I>)</div> <div> Who remind me of a gong at a grade</div> <div>         crossing</div> <div> Clanging loudly and vainly</div> <div> As the train roars by.</div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 26</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="_the_sun_s_over_the"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>“THE SUN’S OVER THE</div> <div> FOREYARD” </div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HEN I was a passenger in the </FONT></div> <div>           barque <I>Winrush</I></div> <div>  I became aware of a pleasant</div> <div>          sea custom.</div> <div> the captain’s boy used to come politely </div> <div>         to me</div> <div> And whisper</div> <div> “The captain’s compliments, and the</div> <div>         sun’s over the foreyard.”</div> <div> And presently I learned that this meant</div> <div> Come aft to the poop</div> <div> And have a drink.</div> <div> For mariners, men of sound self-control,</div> <div> Never touch the bottle</div> <div> Until the sun reaches the yards.</div> <bR> <div> Now that I myself am a seaman</div> <div> I always ship in square sail,</div> <div> Never in steam.</div> <div> In a steamer</div> <div> The yards are so much higher.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 27</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_old_mandarin_on_his"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>THE OLD MANDARIN ON HIS</div> <div> TRAVELS</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HEN I visited America</FONT></div> <div>   I saw two things that struck</div> <div>           me as extraordinary:</div> <div> People packed in the subway</div> <div> Rocking uneasily on their hams</div> <div> Endlessly studying the newspapers;</div> <div> And people packed in the movies</div> <div> Endlessly staring at the films.</div> <div> I said to myself</div> <div> If the American people ever develop</div> <div>         Minds</div> <div> There are two great industries</div> <div> That will crash.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 28</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="an_american_mystic"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>AN AMERICAN MYSTIC</div> <bR> <bR> <div> B<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >UT you  do  not  understand  the</FONT></div> <div>      subway,</div> <div>  Said an American mystic</div> <div> Sitting next to me at the Rotary Club.</div> <div> It is a traveling hermitage,</div> <div> A flying monastery,</div> <div> A nunnery that moves at fifty miles an</div> <div>           Hour.</div> <div> Into it’s roaring wagons</div> <div> Thoughtful men and women descend</div> <div>           with joy:</div> <div> They know that there,</div> <div> The only place in the whole city,</div> <div> They can meditate undisturbed.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 29</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="he_likes_to_give_both_sides"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>HE LIKES TO GIVE BOTH SIDES</div> <div> OF THE MATTER</div> <bR> <bR> <div> A<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >ND as for the newspapers</FONT></div> <div>   (Said another)</div> <div>   You forget that they are the last</div> <div>           friend</div> <div> Many a poor devil has.</div> <div> Go down to Battery Park</div> <div> And see the chaps lying on the grass.</div> <div> Newspapers are their blankets,</div> <div> Their pillows, their sunshades;</div> <div> Newspapers  their Bibles.</div> <div> After everything else has gone</div> <div> A poor bum will cling to his newspaper</div> <div> As his last link with life.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 30</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="he_passes_on_the_good"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>HE PASSES ON THE GOOD</div> <div> WORD</div> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HE Americans, I said,</FONT></div> <div> Are the kindest people in the</div> <div>      world,</div> <div> The most excitable,</div> <div> The most juvenile.</div> <div> The men are unaware of philosophy,</div> <div> The women are unaware they are un-</div> <div>          aware of philosophy,</div> <div> But the young girls . . .</div> <div> And while I was talking</div> <div> I heard with annoyance</div> <div> My grand-nephew whispering,</div> <div> “I must visit America.</div> <div> I never heard the old statesman so elo-</div> <div>           quent.”</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 31</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_old_mandarin_grieves"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>THE OLD MANDARIN GRIEVES</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HEN I was in New York</FONT></div> <div>   I studied the faces of the peo-</div> <div>            ple reading newspapers</div> <div> In the subway,</div> <div> And I saw that the papers most read</div> <div> Were sensational, sordid, salacious.</div> <div> And in my mind I composed a little</div> <div>         message</div> <div> To the editors of those papers.</div> <div> “Your readers needed plain nourishing</div> <div>           truth” (I said)</div> <div> “And you gave them this scented com-</div> <div>           post,</div> <div> Spiced and sugared with vanilla and</div> <div>           civet.</div> <div> They asked for bread </div> <div> And you gave them</div> <div> A chocolate eclair.”</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 32</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="a_letter_to_frnd_hokum"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>A LETTER TO HIS FRIEND</div> <div> HO KUM</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >  WAS interested in New York</FONT></div> <div>  By the theatre advertisements,</div> <div>  And the skill with which</div> <div> The critics’ notices are utilized.</div> <div> There was a play called <I>Nancy Knocks</I></div> <div> <I>          Her Knees.</I></div> <div> The <I>Lens</I> wrote: “This play is extraor-</div> <div>           dinary pestilent rot,</div> <div> Only by the tragically inappropriate</div> <div>           talent of Mr. Soandso</div> <div> Is there an occasional flash of humor.”</div> <div> I thought to myself:</div> <div> “That show in done for, and a good job</div> <div>           too.”</div> <div> The next day I read the advertisements.</div> <div> They said:</div> <div> “Extraordinary  .  .  .  humor.”—<I>Lens</I>.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 33</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="vignette_of_a_poet"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>VIGNETTE OF A POET</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >  GAVE a lecture (said the Old</FONT></div> <div>      Mandarin)</div> <div>   To some friendly people in a New</div> <div>           Jersey town,</div> <div> And they told me that the famous poet,</div> <div> William Butler Yeates,</div> <div> Had once lectured there,</div> <div> But that nobody could hear him.</div> <div> And as he murmured his beautiful wist-</div> <div>           fulnesses</div> <div> (Becoming less and less audible)</div> <div> The audience began to twitch.</div> <div> Suddenly he said:</div> <div> “My poetry always seems sad,</div> <div> But it never seemed as sad as it does to-</div> <div>           night.”</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 34</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="very_few_remember"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>VERY FEW REMEMBER</div> <bR> <bR> <div> A<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >S I went down from Trenton</FONT></div> <div>   By a strip of canal sword-blade</div> <div>          blue in the dusk,</div> <div> I suddenly remembered</div> <div> That this was the way to Camp Dix</div> <div> And I remembered</div> <div> Troop trains traveling in the night.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 35</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="thoughts_in_the_kitchen"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>THOUGHTS IN THE KITCHEN</div> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HE night I cave a supper to</FONT></div> <div>      Chancellor Mu kow</div> <div>  My serving maid departed,</div> <div> And after the ceremony</div> <div> I had to do the cleaning-up myself.</div> <div> and I was thinking:</div> <div> Even an “informal” dinner</div> <div> Means a terrible lot of washing up.</div> <div> and though it takes a pretty big flame</div> <div> To boil a cauldron of water,</div> <div> A very small flame</div> <div> Will keep it boiling.</div> <div> there must be some philosophical appli-</div> <div>           cation for these thoughts</div> <div> If I could only discern it.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 36</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="only_word_of_mouth"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>ONLY WORD OF MOUTH</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HEN I die</FONT></div> <div>        I shall miss the ads.</div> <div>       There will be plenty of ads in</div> <div>           Heaven—</div> <div> Car - cards,  billboards,  double - page</div> <div>           spreads,</div> <div> All the delightful old favorites,</div> <div> Such jolly folderol,</div> <div> Such appealing bunkum.</div> <div> But in Hell</div> <div> There will be no ads—</div> <div> It is too honest.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 37</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="certainty"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>CERTAINTY</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HEN I visit your Great City</FONT></div> <div>      One of the newspapers</div> <div>      Was conducting a department</div> <div>           called</div> <div> <I>The Inquiring Reporter</I>.</div> <div> And I noticed</div> <div> That no matter what questions the </div> <div>           reporter put</div> <div> To the citizens he met</div> <div> (Whether matters of finance, politics,</div> <div>           ethics or sport)</div> <div> They always had a definite answer </div> <div>           ready,</div> <div> Prompt and precise,</div> <div> Knowing exactly what ought to be done</div> <div>           about it.</div> <div> What a shock it would have been to that</div> <div>           reporter</div> <div> If he had met me,</div> <div> For I might have said:</div> <div> “I’m not sure.  Come again to-morrow,</div> <div> When I have had time to think it over,</div> <div> And I may be able to offer an opinion.”</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 38</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="a_letter_to_mu_kow"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>A LETTER TO HIS FRIEND</div> <div> MU KOW</div> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HE Americans are wrongly sup-</FONT></div> <div>        posed to be</div> <div>      Deficient in delicate sentiment.</div> <div> For when I was in New York</div> <div> I went to Polo Grounds</div> <div> To see what they call the World’s</div> <div>           Series.</div> <div> One has to watch baseball every instant,</div> <div> Or you miss something.</div> <div> For while I was foolishly admiring</div> <div> The gold Frontier of sunlight receding on the turf</div> <div> There was a loud cry,</div> <div> A whirl of dust and limbs,</div> <div> And I feared some tragic accident.</div> <div> But when I asked what was amiss</div> <div> The man next to me, with tears in his eyes,</div> <div> Said that one of the players</div> <div> Had stolen home.</div> <div> And I thought to myself</div> <div> How charmingly touching:</div> <div> Here, amid all the uproar and excite-</div> <div>           ment,</div> <div> This fine fellow could not resist the call</div> <div>           of his loved ones</div> <div> And sacrificed his enjoyment just to</div> <div>           greet his wife and bairns.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 39</div> <bR> <bR> <div> There can be no question about it,</div> <div> For the next morning I read an account</div> <div>           of the game</div> <div> Written by Irvin Cobb, one of their</div> <div>           Great Mandarins</div> <div> And he wrote:</div> <div> “McNally,  afflicted  with  acute  nos-</div> <div>           talgia,</div> <div> Stole home.”</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 40</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="he_comforts_himself"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>HE COMFORTS HIMSELF</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HEN I visited America</FONT></div> <div>      (It is the tedious Old Man-</div> <div>           darin speaking)</div> <div> I was eager to visit the birthplaces</div> <div> Of Emily Dickinson and Louise Imogen</div> <div>           Guiney,</div> <div> And I found that this people</div> <div> Had so neglected two of their greatest</div> <div>           poets</div> <div> That  they  hardly  even  knew  their</div> <div>           names.</div> <div> But I was not peevish or distraught:</div> <div> I said to myself</div> <div> Humanity is everywhere alike—</div> <div> I myself am but little known in China.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 41</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="he_is_only_human"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>HE IS ONLY HUMAN</div> <bR> <bR> <div> O<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >NLY once, I think,</FONT></div> <div>      Did I loose my temper;</div> <div>      And that was when the newsboy</div> <div> In a train on Long Island</div> <div> Cried, in a voice of violent hoarse as-</div> <div>           surance,</div> <div> “Buy <I>Bringing Up Father</I>,</div> <div> The Funniest Book Ever Published.”</div> <div> With my Oriental respect for ancestry,</div> <div> I bought</div> <div> And later I said to the lad</div> <div> (With, I fear, a touch of bitterness)</div> <div> “Have  you  ever  read   <I>The Wrong</I></div> <div> <I>          Box?”</I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 42</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="a_moment_of_meditation"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>A MOMENT OF MEDITATION</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > WAS told that America was a free</FONT></div> <div>           Country,</div> <div>  But I found many of its substantial</div> <div>           Citizens</div> <div> Terrorized by the advertisements</div> <div> into believing it was immoral</div> <div> To wear a straw hat</div> <div> Later than September 15th.</div> <div> Wise men know</div> <div> there is no such thing as a free coun-</div> <div>           try—</div> <div> There never will be.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 43</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="little_minds_everywhere"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>LITTLE MINDS EVERYWHERE</div> <div> THE SAME</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HEN I walked in America</FONT></div> <div>      In my ample robes of a phi-</div> <div>           losopher</div> <div> Little dogs barked at me</div> <div> And rude street-boys</div> <div> Called me Lane Bryant,</div> <div> Which is, apparently,</div> <div> The name of an American mandarin.</div> <div> Even so, when Prominent Americans</div> <div> Visiting China</div> <div> Go hurrying about in their tubular </div> <div>           trowsers</div> <div> Little dogs bark with anguish.</div> <div> Thus do petty minds in all lands</div> <div> Confronted by the unusual</div> <div> Show their distress.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 44</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="an_enigma_in_the_woodpile"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>AN ENIGMA IN THE WOODPILE</div> <bR> <bR> <div> A<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >N American friend of mine,</FONT></div> <div>   A Man in a newspaper office,</div> <div>   Is very wealthy</div> <div> He tells me he has an income </div> <div> Of 10,000 interruptions a year.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 45</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="his_experience_with_the"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>HIS EXPERIENCE WITH THE</div> <div> NEWSPAPERS</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >  HEN the ship came up the</FONT></div> <div>           harbor</div> <div>    The New York Reporters</div> <div> Hastened to assail me with questions.</div> <div> For some curious reason</div> <div> They were eager for my views</div> <div> On the Fourth Dimension,</div> <div> Which was then</div> <div> (So I heard afterward)</div> <div> A subject of violent discussion</div> <div> In the Sunday Magazine Sections.</div> <div> Rather pleased in their interest in such</div> <div>           matters,</div> <div> I said, in all good faith,</div> <div> The Fourth Dimension is Supra-</div> <div>           Spacial:</div> <div> It bears the same relation to Space</div> <div> That Space does to Flatness.</div> <div> It may be said to be Continuity,</div> <div> Or, speaking poetically,</div> <div> It is the Shadow</div> <div> That Time casts on Eternity.</div> <bR> <div> But the High-spirited City Editors,</div> <div> Finding these modest thoughts of mine</div> <div> Insufficiently nimble,</div> <div> Invented others.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 46</div> <bR> <bR> <div> They came out that afternoon with</div> <div>           large headlines:</div> <div> A<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >GED</FONT> <FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >MANDARIN SAYS SHORT SKIRTS</FONT></div> <div> M<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >AKE</FONT> <FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HIM FEEL YOUNG AGAIN</FONT>.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 47</div> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="deus_haec_otia_fecit"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>DEUS HAEC OTIA FECIT</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >  SEE a lawn</FONT></div> <div> Strewn here and there with little knobs of bone</div> <div> And chewed billets,</div> <div> And I feel justified in saying</div> <div> Somewhere hereabouts</div> <div> Is a dog.</div> <bR> <div> I see a world</div> <div> Strewn here and there</div> <div> With delightful evidences of law—</div> <div> Geometrical cobwebs, dark blue thun-</div> <div>           derheads,</div> <div> The lid of the tea kettle gently chin-</div> <div>           kling,</div> <div> Hailstones round and white as cam-</div> <div>           phor-balls—</div> <div> I say, it looks as though there were a </div> <div>           god.</div> <bR> <div> Even if this god is only the binomial</div> <div>           theorem,</div> <div> He is no less a god.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 48</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="burrowing_like_a_mole"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>BURROWING LIKE A MOLE</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > HAT is the difference</FONT></div> <div>    Between a Fried Egg</div> <div>    And a Freuá Ego?</div> <div> The same (my dear) as between</div> <div> An omelet</div> <div> And Hamlet.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 49</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_hubbub_of_the"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>THE HUBBUB OF THE</div> <div> UNIVERSE</div> <bR> <bR> <div> M<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >AN makes a great fuss</FONT></div> <div> About this planet</div> <div> Which is only a ball-bearing</div> <div> In the hub of the universe.</div> <div> it reminds me</div> <div> Of the stuff of a humorous weekly</div> <div> Sitting in grave conference</div> <div> On a two-line joke.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 50</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="an_artist"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>AN ARTIST</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >  KNOW a shoeshiner</FONT></div> <div>   Who applies his liquid polish</div> <div>   With little thin brushes</div> <div> And breathes careful anxiety</div> <div> As he paints the edge of my souls.</div> <div> He ought to use a mahlstick—</div> <div> He is an artist at heart.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 51</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="a_pattern_in_the_mud"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>A PATTERN IN THE MUD</div> <bR> <bR> <div> S<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >OMETIMES,  in  the  slime  of  a </FONT></div> <div>           city street,</div> <div>  You  will  see  a  clear  and  lovely</div> <div>                Pattern</div> <div> Of little loops and triangles</div> <div> Imprinted by the tire</div> <div> Of a motor truck.</div> <div> Such was the life of No Sho,</div> <div> The young and tender poet.</div> <div> the city crushed him,</div> <div> But he left his runes</div> <div> In the grime.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 52</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_cigarette_stub"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>THE CIGARETTE STUB</div> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >OSSED aside in the uproar</FONT></div> <div>    No Sho was quenched;</div> <div>    But in his verses</div> <div> You will hear a satirical whisper</div> <div> Like the hiss of a cigarette stub</div> <div> Cast into a sink.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 53</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="to_his_serving_maid"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>TO HIS SERVING MAID</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>     Whom  he  discovered  throwing   per-fectly good food into the garbage pail, e. g., remnants of lotus salad, pickled snails, and fragments of birds’ nests which might have been made into nourishing soup.</I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >RANSFIXED with anguish</FONT></div> <div>      (O Daughter of Inequity)</div> <div>      I stood when I saw the sarcastic</div> <div>           moonlight</div> <div> Gild the contents of your </div> <div> Unthrifty garbage can.</div> <div> O wasteful and slack minded offspring</div> <div> Of cheese-witted peasantry,</div> <div> Fallen in evil ways</div> <div> While in service to the Peking profi-</div> <div>           teers,</div> <div> When half the world is starving</div> <div> You would toss away</div> <div> A practicable mouse-patty</div> <div> Or an undamaged rice-cake—</div> <div> When you die</div> <div> And your miserable wraith</div> <div> Approached the Pagoda of the Immor-</div> <div>           tals</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 54</div> <bR> <bR> <div> May even that lean and grissly portion</div> <div>      of your spirit</div> <div> Which is worth saving</div> <div> Be tossed without hesitation</div> <div> Into the pergatorial incinerator.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 55</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="contradiction"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>CONTRADICTION</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >   SAW a man about to write a poem:</FONT></div> <div>  He trod ruthlessly down a subway</div> <div>          car,</div> <div> Leaving behind him, left and right.</div> <div> Macerated corns</div> <div> And anguished faces.</div> <div> Twenty minutes later</div> <div> He wrote a lyric</div> <div> Of exquisite tenderness.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 56</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="exempt"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>EXEMPT</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >N a subway car</FONT></div> <div> I saw a girl</div> <div> reading the <I>New Re-</I></div> <div> <I>          public</I>.</div> <div> Her long dark lashes</div> <div> Were bent above an article</div> <div> Called “The Surplus Woman”</div> <div> She was temptingly beautiful</div> <div> And she smiled upon the text</div> <div> With gentle assurance and security.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 57</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="meditations_on_poetry"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>MEDITATIONS ON POETRY</div> <bR> <bR> <div> P<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >OETS seem to be much in demand.</FONT></div> <div>    Drawing room evenings, women’s</div> <div>             club meetings,</div> <div> Literary luncheons, Chamber of Com-</div> <div>           merce dinners,</div> <div> Wherever two or three sandwiches are</div> <div>           gathered together</div> <div> There is always a poet</div> <div> Exchanging his “message”</div> <div> For an equivalent bulk</div> <div> Of chow mein</div> <div> And jellied sharks’ fins.</div> <div> All of this is proof</div> <div> Of a widespread hunger,</div> <div> And not merely on the part of the poet.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 58</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="a_pragmatist"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>A PRAGMATIST</div> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HE American poet Lindsay</FONT></div> <div>    (A mercurial fellow)</div> <div>    Began his career</div> <div> By codifying the ways in which the poet</div> <div> Can get a free meal.</div> <div> Here was a seer!</div> <div> Here was a man with a strong grasp of</div> <div>           essentials!</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 59</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="a_happy_life"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>A HAPPY LIFE</div> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HE American poet Whitman</FONT></div> <div>    Did little to assist the razor </div> <div>      industry,</div> <div> But he erected a plausible philosophy</div> <div> Of indolence</div> <div> Which, without soft concealments,</div> <div> He called <I>Loafing</I>,</div> <div> This so irritated the American people</div> <div> (Who were busy putting up buildings</div> <div> And tearing them down again)</div> <div> That they never forgave him.</div> <div> He was deficient in humor,</div> <div> But he had a good time.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 60</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="a_national_frailty"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>A NATIONAL FRAILTY</div> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HE American people</FONT></div> <div>   Were put into the world</div> <div>   To assist Foreign lecturers.</div> <div> When I visited them</div> <div> They filled the crowded halls</div> <div> To hear me tell the Great Truths</div> <div> Which they might as well have read</div> <div> In their own prophet Thoreau.</div> <div> They paid me, for this,</div> <div> Three hundred dollars a night,</div> <div> And ten of their mandarins</div> <div> Invited me to visit at Newport.</div> <div> My agent told me</div> <div> If I would wear Chinese costume on the</div> <div>           platform</div> <div> It would be five hundred.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 61</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_man_with_the_rake"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>THE MAN WITH THE RAKE</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >T is queer to think that many people</FONT></div> <div>   Have never raked leaves.</div> <div>   On a brilliant Sunday morning in</div> <div>                October </div> <div> I  admired  trees  as  ruddy  as  burnt  or-</div> <div>           ange,</div> <div> The sauterne of the leaves, I said to</div> <div>           myself,</div> <div> Raking placidly</div> <div> And enjoying the crisp rustle.</div> <bR> <div> That  is  what  I  like  about  raking </div> <div>           leaves—</div> <div> it is wine and opiate for the mind:</div> <div> The  incessant  skirmish  of  the  wit  is </div> <div>           calmed,</div> <div> And as you rake and burn</div> <div> And dodge, with smarting eyes, </div> <div> The pungent, veering reek,</div> <div> You fall into a dull easy muse,</div> <div> And think to yourself,</div> <div> After all, what is writing books</div> <div> But raking leaves?</div> <bR> <div> And at such times</div> <div> I plant the seeds of poems.</div> <div> it takes poems a long time to grow—</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 62</div> <bR> <div> They lie germinating in the dark of the </div> <div>           mind;</div> <div> But next spring, very likely,</div> <div> There may emerge the green and tender</div> <div>           shoots</div> <div> Of two or three bright stanzas.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 63</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="veritas_vos_damnabit"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>VERITAS VOS DAMNABIT</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >T is the Mark of extreme youth</FONT></div> <div>  To believe that telling the Whole</div> <div>           Trust</div> <div> Is always useful.</div> <div> Truth is not a diet</div> <div> But a condiment.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 64</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="another_postponement"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>ANOTHER POSTPONEMENT</div> <bR> <bR> <div> O<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >NCE, on a midnight of rain and</FONT></div> <div>      gale,</div> <div> When the windowsrattled in</div> <div>                The hollow darkness,</div> <div> I was in the kitchen</div> <div> Eating cold turkey and cranberry sauce</div> <div> Frisked from the icebox.</div> <div> My mind was clear and busy:</div> <div> Then, I suppose, I came as near as I ever</div> <div>           shall</div> <div> To  being  ready  to  write  a  great</div> <div>           poem. . . .</div> <div> But I lay down on my couch to meditate</div> <div> And was soon fast asleep.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 65</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="advantage_of_a_bookish"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>ADVANTAGE OF A BOOKISH</div> <div> UPBRINGING</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HEN the wine has done its rosy</FONT></div> <div>           deed</div> <div>           (As  the  reputable English</div> <div>                Poet said)</div> <div> I enjoy to study in tranquility</div> <div> the lovable absurdities of men.</div> <div> And  then  my  familiarity  with  litera-</div> <div>           ures</div> <div> Beasteads me well,</div> <div> Affording me always a scholarly expla-</div> <div>           nation</div> <div> For conduct seemingly eccentric.</div> <bR> <div> Once, I remember,</div> <div> After an evening in which Chancellor</div> <div>           Mu Kow and myself</div> <div> Had repeatedly toasted toe loveliness</div> <div>           of the moon,</div> <div> Condoling our solitude</div> <div> In the wide pale sky,</div> <div> I lay in a perfection of comfortable</div> <div>           thought</div> <div> In a gently revolving cabbage field.</div> <div> But my wife’s parents</div> <div> Heading the search party</div> <div> Discovered me there, and cried lamen-</div> <div>           tation and oxytones.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 66</div> <bR> <bR> <div> B<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >e of good cheer, I said:</FONT></div> <div> It is with me as with the great Flaubert</div> <div> Who pernoctated in a cabbage patch</div> <div> Noting down, for purpose of literature,</div> <div> The tincture of moonshine</div> <div> On the leaves of the vegetables.</div> <div> Even so, I sacrifice myself for realism.</div> <div> Tenderly they carried me in.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 67</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="_a___b__"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>(A + B)²</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <FONT SIZE="7" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >M</FONT>ARRIAGE  is  the  square  of   <I>a</I></div> <div>           plus   <I>b</I></div> <div>      In other words</div> <div> <I>a² </I>+ <I>b²</I> +<I> 2ab</I></div> <div> Where <I>2ab</I> (of course)</div> <div> Are twins.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 68</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="secret_thoughts"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>SECRET THOUGHTS</div> <bR> <bR> <div> A<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >ND while my visitor prattled</FONT></div> <div>      I courteously nodded;</div> <div>      My eye was fast upon him,</div> <div> My face bright with attention;</div> <div> But inwardly I was saying:</div> <div> “The excellent fellow, why does he tell</div> <div>           me all this?</div> <div> What has this to do with me?</div> <div> O Buddha, when will he depart?”</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 69</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_realist"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>THE REALIST</div> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HE sun shown on the meadow</FONT></div> <div>      And the painted silver patines on</div> <div>           the level river;</div> <div> A purple bird spread scarlet wings</div> <div> Under the trumpet vine arbor</div> <div> And the scent of the pink melons was</div> <div>           in the balmy air.</div> <div> But, down there by the waterside,</div> <div> These colors gave me no comfort.</div> <div> I was wondering</div> <div> Whether an early morning bath</div> <div> would ease my mahogony colored</div> <div>           spaniel</div> <div> Of his plague of fleas.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 70</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="overdue"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>OVERDUE</div> <bR> <bR> <div> A<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >N Irish acquaintance</FONT></div> <div>      Insists, with monotonous outcry,</div> <div>      That I have been bought</div> <div> “With British gold.”</div> <div> This is agreeable news,</div> <div> But when</div> <div> Do the payments begin?</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 71</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="oneiromancy"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>ONEIROMANCY</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Y<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >OU should never tell your dreams</FONT></div> <div>      If you wish them to come true”</div> <div>      My dear old great-aunt used to</div> <div>               say.</div> <div> And now</div> <div> Since Freud went into a second edition</div> <div> I see she was ahead of her time.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 72</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="mutual_esteem"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>MUTUAL ESTEEM</div> <bR> <bR> <div> E<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >VEN God</FONT></div> <div>      (A witty Frenchman has pointed</div> <div>           out)</div> <div> Was not an original creator,</div> <div> For He made man</div> <div> In His own image.</div> <div> That is why man</div> <div> Spells Him with a capital.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 73</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="apocalypse"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>APOCALYPSE</div> <bR> <bR> <div> E<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >DWARD BOK has related</FONT></div> <div>      That when he went to call</div> <div>      On Randolph Waldo Emerson in</div> <div>           his last years,</div> <div> The old philosopher</div> <div> Was noncomposed in his wits.</div> <div> If so, it was probably because</div> <div> He had a psychic vision</div> <div> Of the long panorama of the L.H.J.</div> <div> Stretching away into the future.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 74</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="sunk_without_a_trace"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>SUNK WITHOUT A TRACE</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >E are well called brokers</FONT></div> <div>      For we are usually broke,</div> <div>      Cried the old financier on his</div> <div>           deathbed;</div> <div> But the heirs all unsuspecting</div> <div> Were out among the Grand Banks</div> <div> Fishing for codicils.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 75</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="irritation_of_the_old"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>IRRITATION OF THE OLD</div> <div> MANDARIN</div> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HERE was another reporter</FONT></div> <div>      (A young woman, this time)</div> <div>      Who came to my hotel to ask</div> <div>           whether</div> <div> The Fine Art of Self-Salesmanship</div> <div> Had made much progress in China?</div> <div> I said, “Dear young Madam,</div> <div> As regards ladies, our language has for</div> <div>           that Fine Art</div> <div> An ugly word.</div> <div> As regards Aggressive Business Men</div> <div> I can only say,</div> <div> <I>Caveat Emptor</I>.”</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 76</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="he_broods"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>HE BROODS</div> <bR> <bR> <div> S<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >TUDYING the life of the Ameri-</FONT></div> <div>      cans,</div> <div> Its nervous haste,</div> <div> It’s lack of privacy,</div> <div> I said to myself:</div> <div> Oysters are here</div> <div> But, loving this volatile people,</div> <div> And desiring their souls’ good,</div> <div> When will cloisters</div> <div> Come in season?</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 77</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="bivalves"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>BIVALVES</div> <bR> <bR> <div> T<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >HE pearl</FONT></div> <div>      Is a disease of the oyster.</div> <div>      A poem </div> <div> Is a disease of the spirit</div> <div> Caused by the irritation</div> <div> Of a granule of Truth</div> <div> Fallen into that soft grey bivalve</div> <div> We call the mind.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 78</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="eternity_and_the_tooth"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>ETERNITY AND THE TOOTH</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >N regard to Eternity (said the Old</FONT></div> <div>           Mandarin)</div> <div>      I feel about it as I do about one of</div> <div>           my teeth.</div> <div> Every now and then it gives me</div> <div> A devil of a twinge,</div> <div> And for a while</div> <div> I groan and can think of naught else.</div> <div> Then the anguish abates and I dismiss</div> <div>           it from my mind.</div> <div> But I know, just the same,</div> <div> That some day</div> <div> I’ve got to go through with it.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 79</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="a_proverb"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>A PROVERB</div> <bR> <bR> <div> W<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >E have a saying in China</FONT></div> <div>      That  a  man  will  wash  his </div> <div>           hands cleaner for visitors</div> <div> Than he will for the family.</div> <div> Even so,</div> <div> He who is full of sentensious wisdom in </div> <div>           Public</div> <div> Maybe dark and doubtful within.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 80</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_tolerator"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>THE TOLERATOR</div> <bR> <bR> <div> F<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >ROM time to time</FONT></div> <div>      I have laid my heart bare before</div> <div>           you</div> <div> And you did not like it.</div> <div> So I must point out to you</div> <div> It is <I>my</I> heart, not yours.</div> <bR> <div> My wrongness, perhaps,</div> <div> Is dearer to me</div> <div> Than your rightness.</div> <bR> <div> Yet you must not think</div> <div> That when I disagree with you</div> <div> I dislike you.</div> <div> On the contrary:</div> <div> I love you for having ideas of your own.</div> <div> I know how you came to have those</div> <div>           ideas, </div> <div> And they are precious to you.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 81</div> <div>  <A NAME="the_painter"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> THE PAINTER</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > TALKED with a young painter,</FONT></div> <div>  And as we came along Beekman</div> <div>           Street</div> <div> My eye dwelt upon the shining audacity</div> <div> Of the Woolworth Building.</div> <div> But he was peering downward along the</div> <div>           curb</div> <div> Where were clear pools of melted snow.</div> <div> “See!” he cried,</div> <div> “That’s how it ought to be painted!”</div> <div> There, reflected in a long panel of water,</div> <div> Sharp and exquisite, was the pale</div> <div>           tower—</div> <div> Enriching every puddle in the neigh-</div> <div>           borhood.</div> <bR> <div> True! I said—</div> <div> beauty like the Medusa:</div> <div> Look her in the face, and you run mad;</div> <div> But, like Perseus,</div> <div> Study her reflection in the polished</div> <div>           shield.</div> <div> Look upon life in the mirror of some art</div> <div> And, perhaps, you will stay sane.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 82</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_poet"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>THE POET</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > TALKED with a poet</FONT></div> <div> Who had just cashed a royalty check.</div> <div> “In the past six months,” he boasted,</div> <div> “They sold thirty copies.</div> <div> I tell you, it warms the cockles</div> <div> Of my right-hand trouser.”</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 83</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="adjustment"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>ADJUSTMENT</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >n your Great City</FONT></div> <div>      I see, in jewelers’ windows,</div> <div>      Clocks that tell the guaranteed</div> <div>                Correct Time;</div> <div> And in front of those clocks people</div> <div>           always halted</div> <div> Adjusting their watches.</div> <div> But suppose there were displayed, be-</div> <div>           side the street,</div> <div> some great poem,</div> <div> Telling of perfect Truth or Beauty,</div> <div> How many passers</div> <div> Would pause to adjust their minds?</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 84</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="anticrastination"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>ANTICRASTINATION</div> <bR> <bR> <div> O<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >N my way to your theatres, said</FONT></div> <div>      the dubious Old Mandarin,</div> <div> I see To-morrow’s papers</div> <div>                On sale</div> <div> At eight o’clock To-night,</div> <div> So does your strange mad city</div> <div> Leap hotly towards the Future,</div> <div> Tossing aside each day before it is</div> <div>           finished,</div> <div> Hungrily, fatuously, craving the next.</div> <div> Is it possible that the Editor</div> <div> Is dissatisfied with each and every of his</div> <div>           irreplaceable To-days</div> <div> That he hurries To-morrow so close</div> <div>           upon its heels?</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 85</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="oh_inequitable_buildings"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>OH, INEQUITABLE BUILDINGS!</div> <bR> <bR> <div> A<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" >ND as for those who work on</FONT></div> <div>           lower Broadway,</div> <div> What are they, poor hasty mice,</div> <div> But cannon fodder?</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> 86</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="tick_douloureaux"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>TICK DOULOUREAUX</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > AM wounded</FONT></div> <div> In a fatal artery.</div> <div> The vein of Time is cut,</div> <div> The minutes are bleeding, bleeding</div> <div>           away.</div> <div> Bartender, make me a tourniquet for </div> <div>           This hemorrhage</div> <div> Or I shall tick to death.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <I>Here   Ends   This   Book   of   Translations</I></div> <div> <I>from   the   Chinese,  Scrupulously   De-</I></div> <div> <I>ciphered    by    Christopher    Morley</I></div> <div> <I>from    the    original    cordiscript,</I></div> <div> <I>and   published   by   George   H.</I></div> <div> <I>Doran     Company     in     the</I></div> <div> <I>month     of     May,    1922.</I></div> <div> <I>And  both  publisher  and</I></div> <div> <I>author  invoke  hand-</I></div> <div> <I>s o m e    generous</I></div> <div> <I>blessing    upon</I></div> <div> <I>anyone  who</I></div> <div> <I>actually</I></div> <div> <I>buys</I></div> <div> <I>it.</I></div> <bR> <bR> </tD> </tR> <tR> <tD VALIGN=TOP HEIGHT= 1506 WIDTH="446"><div> <I>FOREWARD</I></div> <div> <I>(or shall we call it an aside)</I></div> <div> <I>by:: Eric Bender</I></div> <bR> <div> <I>We all have dark periods in our lives.  I was going thru a particularly dark period when a friend of mine, Dr. Ben Stafford of </I><I>Daycare Franchise.com</I><I>, gave me a copy of this book.  I fell in love with an author... at least one of his works.</I></div> <bR> <div> <I>Ben is a collector of antique books.  He has a wonderful private library.  Words, lovingly vaccuum sealed in pouches.  I have intended to digitize them and preserve them for all time.  I took great pains to make sure each and every detail of his book was carefully preserved, twice.  You see, my first copy was lost to a virus- and I didn't have a current backup- I </I>thought<I>.  Some of those details were lost in this publication, but all the words are there and on their correct pages, altho they are all on one virtual sheet. </I></div> <bR> <div> <I>Ben told me that Christopher Morley was a freelance newspaper writer.  He was paid by the word, so he held none back, usually.  This work seems to be the opposite.  he boiled down his observations in much the same way Sun Tsu did in the Tao te Ching.  Neither author intended for their works to become a religion.  Both, however are deserving of praise for a job well done!  </I></div> <bR> <div> <I>Enjoy,</I></div> <div> <I>E</I></div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> The Palimpsest</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>T</I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" ><I>here is in each mans heart,</I></FONT></div> <div> <I> Chinese writing—</I></div> <div> <I>A secret script, a cryptic language:</I></div> <div> <I>The strange ideographs of the spirit,</I></div> <div> <I>Scribbled over or half erased</I></div> <div> <I>By the swift stenography of daily life.</I></div> <bR> <div> <I>No man can easily decipher this cordi-</I></div> <div> <I>     script,</I></div> <div> <I>This blurred text corrupted by fears</I></div> <div> <I>     and follies;</I></div> <div> <I>But now and then,</I></div> <div> <I>Reading his own heart</I></div> <div> <I>(So little studied, such fine reading </I></div> <div> <I>     matter!)</I></div> <div> <I>He sees fragments of rubric shine </I></div> <div> <I>     through—</I></div> <div> <I>Old words of truth and trouble</I></div> <div> <I>Illuminated, red and gold.</I></div> <div> <I>the study of this hidden language</I></div> <div> <I>Is what I call</I></div> <div> <I>Translations from the Chinese.</I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> </tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>