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Rudyard Kipling wrote a poem in 1919 that I had never heard of until yesterday. The title would have made perfect sense to someone who grew up in Victorian England, but needs some explanation to someone living now.
British schoolboys had "Copybooks" that were simply composition books that had a quote printed at the top of each page in perfect cursive handwriting. These were proverbs, maxims or other witticisms expressing some kernel of wisdom, such as "The wages of sin is death." The students would have to copy the heading exactly, over and over until the page was filled up. It was both to practice handwriting, and to drill into them traditional wisdom. The poem is about what happens when society abandons wisdom and reason (as expressed in the Copybook Headings) and turns to half baked idealistic feel good philosophies. I think it is more relevant today than when he wrote it: The Gods of the Copybook Headings AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race, I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place. Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall, And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all. We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn: But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind, So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind. We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace, Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place, But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome. With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch, They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch; They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings; So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things. When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace. They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease. But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe, And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know." On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life (Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife) Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith, And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death." In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all, By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul; But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy, And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die." Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more. As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man There are only four things certain since Social Progress began. That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire, And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire; And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins, As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn, The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!
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Jim CBOB0497 "That rifle hanging on the wall of the working class flat or laborer's cottage is the symbol of democracy. It is our job to see that it stays there." - George Orwell |
#2
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Brilliant, and oh so stolen...
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CBOB0718 |
#3
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So... so... .so..... stolen for my facebook page. I'll give credit to you tho!
Da ![]()
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COTEP: CBOB578 DW CCO SIG GSR 1911 SA Micro Compact and a spectacular cast of others! "You have never lived, until you have almost died. And for those who fight for it, life has a flavor that the protected will never know." Guy de Maupassant, 1893. Anonymously, penned on a sign at a command post at Khe Sanh, RVN. |
#4
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So stolen!!!!
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canis fidelis cave canem, vereor non magnus nocens lupus In hoc signo vinces If you can list them, you ain't got enough!!! Life Member NRA, SCI, ATA, NSCA COTEP 414 |