The Ape And God
Son put a poser up to me
That made me scratch my head:
“God made the whole wide world,” quoth he;
“That’s right, my boy,” I said.
Said son: “He mad the mountains soar,
And all the plains lie flat;
But Dad, what did he do before
He did all that?
Said I: “Creation was his biz;
He set the stars to shine;
The sun and moon and all that is
Were His unique design.
The Cosmos is his concrete thought,
The Universe his chore…”
Said Son: “I understand, but what
Did He before?”
I gave it up; I could not cope
With his enquiring prod,
And must admit I’ve little hope
Of understanding God.
Indeed I find more to my mind
The monkey in the tree
In whose crude form Nature defined
Our human destiny.
Thought I: “Why search for Deity
In visionary shape?
‘Twould better be if we could see
The angel in the ape.
Let mystic seek a God above:
Far wiser he who delves,
To find in kindliness and love
God in ourselves.”
Related poetry:
- The Family Monkey We bought an electric monkey, experimenting rather Recklessly with funds carefully gathered since Grandfather’s time for the purchase of a steam monkey. We had either, by this time, the choice of an electric Or gas monkey. The steam monkey is no longer being made, said the monkey Merchant. But the family always planned on a […]...
- The Ape And I Said a monkey unto me: “How I’m glad I am not you! See, I swing from tree to tree, Something that you cannot do. In gay greenery I drown; Swift to skyey hights I scale: As you watch me hang head down Don’t you wish you had a tail? “Don’t you wish that you could […]...
- Teaching XVIII Then said a teacher, “Speak to us of Teaching.” And he said: No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of our knowledge. The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, among his followers, gives not of his wisdom but rather of his faith […]...
- The Carnival Whereas the man who hits The gong dis- Proves it, in all its Simplicity Even so the attempt Makes for triumph, in Another man. Likewise in love I Am not foolish or in- Competent. My method is not a Tenderness, but hope Defined....
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 45. The baby new to earth and sky The baby new to earth and sky, What time his tender palm is prest Against the circle of the breast, Has never thought that “this is I”: But as he grows he gathers much, And learns the use of “I,” and “me,” And finds “I am not what I see, And other than the things […]...
- Mock Panegyric on a Young Friend In measured verse I’ll now rehearse The charms of lovely Anna: And, first, her mind is unconfined Like any vast savannah. Ontario’s lake may fitly speak Her fancy’s ample bound: Its circuit may, on strict survey Five hundred miles be found. Her wit descends on foes and friends Like famed Niagara’s fall; And travellers gaze […]...
- Hope The Tree of Knowledge we in Eden prov’d; The Tree of Life was thence to Heav’n remov’d: Hope is the growth of Earth, the only Plant, Which either Heav’n, or Paradise cou’d want. Hell knows it not, to Us alone confin’d, And Cordial only to the Human Mind. Receive it then, t’expel these mortal Cares, […]...
- Eyrie Between the mountain and the sea I’ve made a happy landing; And here a peace has come to me That passeth understanding; A shining faith and purity Beyond demanding. With palm below and pine above, Where wings of gulls are gleaming; By orange tree and olive grove, From walls of airy seeming, My roses beg […]...
- Friendship Between Ephelia And Ardelia Eph. What Friendship is, ARDELIA shew. Ard. ‘Tis to love, as I love You. Eph. This Account, so short (tho’ kind) Suits not my enquiring Mind. Therefore farther now repeat; What is Friendship when complete? Ard. ‘Tis to share all Joy and Grief; ‘Tis to lend all due Relief From the Tongue, the Heart, the […]...
- Song of the Little White Girl Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, what is the matter? Why are you shaking so? Why do you chatter? Because it is just a white baby you see, And it’s the black ones you like, cabbage tree? Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, you’re a strange fellow With your green hair and your legs browny-yellow. Wouldn’t you like to […]...
- Hope and Fear Beneath the shadow of dawn’s aërial cope, With eyes enkindled as the sun’s own sphere, Hope from the front of youth in godlike cheer Looks Godward, past the shades where blind men grope Round the dark door that prayers nor dreams can ope, And makes for joy the very darkness dear That gives her wide […]...
- Agnostic Apology I am a stout materialist; With abstract terms I can’t agree, And so I’ve made a little list Of words that don’t make sense to me. To fool my reason I refuse, For honest thinking is my goal; And that is why I rarely use Vague words like Soul. In terms of matter I am […]...
- Your Poem My poem may be yours indeed In melody and tone, If in its rhythm you can read A music of your own; If in its pale woof you can weave Your lovelier design, ‘Twill make my lyric, I believe, More yours than mine. I’m but a prompter at the best; Crude cues are all I […]...
- September, The First Day Of School I My child and I hold hands on the way to school, And when I leave him at the first-grade door He cries a little but is brave; he does Let go. My selfish tears remind me how I cried before that door a life ago. I may have had a hard time letting go. […]...
- Frogmouth biker The biker was a menace on the farm, a madman bent On speed, intent on leaving all for dead (it was fortunate He never left the shed). This biker was a frogmouth owl, A petrol head who sought to ride the biggest, baddest bike Around and did indeed if only in his mind; I’d dread […]...
- The Vantage Point If tired of trees I seek again mankind, Well I know where to hie me in the dawn, To a slope where the cattle keep the lawn. There amid lolling juniper reclined, Myself unseen, I see in white defined Far off the homes of men, and farther still, The graves of men on an opposing […]...
- EXPLANATION OF AN ANTIQUE GEM A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts high Within a beauteous garden; And see, a goat is sitting by. As if he were its warden. But oh, Quirites, how one errs! The tree is guarded badly; For round the other side there whirrs And hums a beetle madly. The hero with his well-mail’d coat Nibbles the […]...
- Sonnet XXV: Can'st Thou Forget Can’st thou forget, O! Idol of my Soul! Thy Sappho’s voice, her form, her dulcet Lyre! That melting ev’ry thought to fond desire, Bade sweet delerium o’er thy senses roll? Can’st thou, so soon, renounce the blest control That calm’d with pity’s tears love’s raging fire, While Hope, slow breathing on the trembling wire, In […]...
- The Clean Plater Some singers sing of ladies’ eyes, And some of ladies lips, Refined ones praise their ladylike ways, And course ones hymn their hips. The Oxford Book of English Verse Is lush with lyrics tender; A poet, I guess, is more or less Preoccupied with gender. Yet I, though custom call me crude, Prefer to sing […]...
- The Abnormal Is Not Courage The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers, A magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace. And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question The bravery. Say it’s not courage. Call it a passion. Would say courage isn’t that. Not at its best. […]...
- A Peasant Iago Prytherch his name, though, be it allowed, Just an ordinary man of the bald Welsh hills, Who pens a few sheep in a gap of cloud. Docking mangels, chipping the green skin From the yellow bones with a half-witted grin Of satisfaction, or churning the crude earth To a stiff sea of clods that […]...
- These held their Wick above the West These held their Wick above the West Till when the Red declined Or how the Amber aided it Defied to be defined Then waned without disparagement In a dissembling Hue That would not let the Eye decide Did it abide or no...
- Her Letter “I’m taking pen in hand this night, and hard it is for me; My poor old fingers tremble so, my hand is stiff and slow, And even with my glasses on I’m troubled sore to see. . . . You’d little know your mother, boy; you’d little, little know. You mind how brisk and bright […]...
- Simplicity What I seek far yet seldom find Is large simplicity of mind In fellow men; For I have sprouted from the sod, Like Bobbie Burns, my earthly god, From plough to pen. So I refuse my brain to vex With problems prosy and complex, Beyond my scope; To me simplicity is peace, So I persue […]...
- The Black Monkey My Babbles has a nasty knack Of keeping monkeys on her back. A great big black one comes and swings Right on her sash or pinny strings. It is a horrid thing and wild And makes her such a naughty child. She comes and stands beside my chair With almost an offended air And says: […]...
- My Dog ‘Twas in a pub just off the Strand When I was in my cups, There passed a bloke with in his hand Two tiny puling pups; And one was on me with a bound, Seeking to lick my face, And so I bought him for a pound And took him to my place. Three acres […]...
- The Simple Line The secrets of the mind convene splendidly, Though the mind is meek. To be aware inwardly Of brain and beauty Is dark too recognizable. Thought looking out on thought Makes one an eye: Which it shall be, both decide. One is with the mind alone, The other is with other thoughts gone To be seen […]...
- Imagining Defeat She woke me up at dawn, Her suitcase like a little brown dog at her heels. I sat up and looked out the window At the snow falling in the stand of blackjack trees. A bus ticket in her hand. Then she brought something black up to her mouth, A plum I thought, but it […]...
- Pragmatic When young I was an Atheist, Yea, pompous as a pigeon No opportunity I missed To satirize religion. I sneered at Scripture, scoffed at Faith, I blasphemed at believers: Said I: “There’s nothing after Death, Your priests are just deceivers.” In middle age I was not so Contemptuous and caustic. Thought I: “There’s much I […]...
- The Old Armchair In all the pubs from Troon to Ayr Grandfather’s father would repair With Bobby Burns, a drouthy pair, The glass to clink; And oftenwhiles, when not too “fou,” They’d roar a bawdy stave or two, From midnight muk to morning dew, And drink and drink. And Grandfather, with eye aglow And proper pride, would often […]...
- St. John's, Cambridge I stand beneath the tree, whose branches shade Thy western window, Chapel of St. John! And hear its leaves repeat their benison On him, whose hand thy stones memorial laid; Then I remember one of whom was said In the world’s darkest hour, “Behold thy son!” And see him living still, and wandering on And […]...
- Echoes Late-born and woman-souled I dare not hope, The freshness of the elder lays, the might Of manly, modern passion shall alight Upon my Muse’s lips, nor may I cope (Who veiled and screened by womanhood must grope) With the world’s strong-armed warriors and recite The dangers, wounds, and triumphs of the fight; Twanging the full-stringed […]...
- You And Me I’m part of people I have known And they are part of me; The seeds of thought that I have sown In other minds I see. There’s something of me in the throne And in the gallows tree. There’s something of me in each one With whom I work and play, For islanded there can […]...
- A Summer Evening Churchyard, Lechlade, Gloucestershire THE wind has swept from the wide atmosphere Each vapour that obscured the sunset’s ray, And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair In duskier braids around the languid eyes of Day: Silence and Twilight, unbeloved of men, Creep hand in hand from yon obscurest glen. They breathe their spells towards the departing day, Encompassing the […]...
- The Christmas Tree In the dark and damp of the alley cold, Lay the Christmas tree that hadn’t been sold; By a shopman dourly thrown outside; With the ruck and rubble of Christmas-tide; Trodden deep in the muck and mire, Unworthy even to feed a fire… So I stopped and salvaged that tarnished tree, And thus is the […]...
- The Hinterland You speak to me, but does your speech With truest truth your thought convey? I listen to your words and each Is what I wait to hear you say. The pattern that your lips reveal, How does it measure with your mind? What undertones do you conceal? Your smile is sweet – but what’s behind? […]...
- After-Thought I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide, As being past away. – Vain sympathies! For backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes, I see what was, and is, and will abide; Still glides the Stream, and shall not cease to glide; The Form remains, the Function never dies; While we, the brave, the […]...
- Mother, Among The Dustbins Mother, among the dustbins and the manure I feel the measure of my humanity, an allure As of the presence of God, I am sure In the dustbins, in the manure, in the cat at play, Is the presence of God, in a sure way He moves there. Mother, what do you say? I too […]...
- Road-Song of the Bandar-Log (From The Jungle Book) Here we go in a flung festoon, Half-way up to the jealous moon! Don’t you envy our pranceful bands? Don’t you wish you had extra hands? Would n’t you like if your tails were so Curved in the shape of a Cupid’s bow? Now you’re angry, but never mind, Brother, thy […]...
- Jonathan Swift Somers After you have enriched your soul To the highest point, With books, thought, suffering, the understanding of many personalities, The power to interpret glances, silences, The pauses in momentous transformations, The genius of divination and prophecy; So that you feel able at times to hold the world In the hollow of your hand; Then, if, […]...