E. H. W. MEYERSTEIN(MAGDALEN)THE FINGER(To R. T.)Howcuriously this triple wholeOf skin and blood and boneConsenteth to the mind's controlAnd to the mind's alone.'Tis for diurnal uses mine,To move howe'er I please,Or mingle with its brothers nineEnclasped about my knees.Yet often when the mind's afar,By vagrant thought bestirred,It gaily shifts and beats the barTo songs and sounds unheard.Mute eloquence! 'Tis plain to seeAs face in looking-glassThat more than one is lord of meWhen this is brought to pass.What else but mind and mind aloneShould rule the triple whole,But how if skin and blood and boneThemselves enshroud a soul?LONDONSir, you're from Oxford, seat of blissArrived in the Metropolis;We hold you well and think we canMake you, in your despite, a man.'Tis here our wont, though strange it seems,To deal in solid facts, not dreams;For lies are lies, and gold is gold,And men are daily bought or sold.Parade the purlieus if you wishTo study poor-law and fried fish;There's much that waits to be improved,And an improver's rarely loved.Or yours is the creative touch;We have a score of shops for such,Where novelties in paint and wordsAre scrutinized by lonely herds.Colour and motion are aglowIn streets above and tubes below.We energize: to meditateOnly befits a culture-state.Such friends we'll give you as will proveThe world is only made of love;But life is necessary too,And vices, seeing you are you.For in this pantomimic sceneThere's nothing common or unclean;You lodge upon the second floorAnd opposite a noted whore.So, when your dreams are laid to rest,You're part of what you most detest,And know this nightmare was made realTo dissipate a false ideal.
E. H. W. MEYERSTEIN(MAGDALEN)
E. H. W. MEYERSTEIN(MAGDALEN)
(To R. T.)
Howcuriously this triple wholeOf skin and blood and boneConsenteth to the mind's controlAnd to the mind's alone.'Tis for diurnal uses mine,To move howe'er I please,Or mingle with its brothers nineEnclasped about my knees.Yet often when the mind's afar,By vagrant thought bestirred,It gaily shifts and beats the barTo songs and sounds unheard.Mute eloquence! 'Tis plain to seeAs face in looking-glassThat more than one is lord of meWhen this is brought to pass.What else but mind and mind aloneShould rule the triple whole,But how if skin and blood and boneThemselves enshroud a soul?
Howcuriously this triple wholeOf skin and blood and boneConsenteth to the mind's controlAnd to the mind's alone.'Tis for diurnal uses mine,To move howe'er I please,Or mingle with its brothers nineEnclasped about my knees.Yet often when the mind's afar,By vagrant thought bestirred,It gaily shifts and beats the barTo songs and sounds unheard.Mute eloquence! 'Tis plain to seeAs face in looking-glassThat more than one is lord of meWhen this is brought to pass.What else but mind and mind aloneShould rule the triple whole,But how if skin and blood and boneThemselves enshroud a soul?
Howcuriously this triple wholeOf skin and blood and boneConsenteth to the mind's controlAnd to the mind's alone.
Howcuriously this triple whole
Of skin and blood and bone
Consenteth to the mind's control
And to the mind's alone.
'Tis for diurnal uses mine,To move howe'er I please,Or mingle with its brothers nineEnclasped about my knees.
'Tis for diurnal uses mine,
To move howe'er I please,
Or mingle with its brothers nine
Enclasped about my knees.
Yet often when the mind's afar,By vagrant thought bestirred,It gaily shifts and beats the barTo songs and sounds unheard.
Yet often when the mind's afar,
By vagrant thought bestirred,
It gaily shifts and beats the bar
To songs and sounds unheard.
Mute eloquence! 'Tis plain to seeAs face in looking-glassThat more than one is lord of meWhen this is brought to pass.
Mute eloquence! 'Tis plain to see
As face in looking-glass
That more than one is lord of me
When this is brought to pass.
What else but mind and mind aloneShould rule the triple whole,But how if skin and blood and boneThemselves enshroud a soul?
What else but mind and mind alone
Should rule the triple whole,
But how if skin and blood and bone
Themselves enshroud a soul?
Sir, you're from Oxford, seat of blissArrived in the Metropolis;We hold you well and think we canMake you, in your despite, a man.'Tis here our wont, though strange it seems,To deal in solid facts, not dreams;For lies are lies, and gold is gold,And men are daily bought or sold.Parade the purlieus if you wishTo study poor-law and fried fish;There's much that waits to be improved,And an improver's rarely loved.Or yours is the creative touch;We have a score of shops for such,Where novelties in paint and wordsAre scrutinized by lonely herds.Colour and motion are aglowIn streets above and tubes below.We energize: to meditateOnly befits a culture-state.Such friends we'll give you as will proveThe world is only made of love;But life is necessary too,And vices, seeing you are you.For in this pantomimic sceneThere's nothing common or unclean;You lodge upon the second floorAnd opposite a noted whore.So, when your dreams are laid to rest,You're part of what you most detest,And know this nightmare was made realTo dissipate a false ideal.
Sir, you're from Oxford, seat of blissArrived in the Metropolis;We hold you well and think we canMake you, in your despite, a man.'Tis here our wont, though strange it seems,To deal in solid facts, not dreams;For lies are lies, and gold is gold,And men are daily bought or sold.Parade the purlieus if you wishTo study poor-law and fried fish;There's much that waits to be improved,And an improver's rarely loved.Or yours is the creative touch;We have a score of shops for such,Where novelties in paint and wordsAre scrutinized by lonely herds.Colour and motion are aglowIn streets above and tubes below.We energize: to meditateOnly befits a culture-state.Such friends we'll give you as will proveThe world is only made of love;But life is necessary too,And vices, seeing you are you.For in this pantomimic sceneThere's nothing common or unclean;You lodge upon the second floorAnd opposite a noted whore.So, when your dreams are laid to rest,You're part of what you most detest,And know this nightmare was made realTo dissipate a false ideal.
Sir, you're from Oxford, seat of blissArrived in the Metropolis;We hold you well and think we canMake you, in your despite, a man.
Sir, you're from Oxford, seat of bliss
Arrived in the Metropolis;
We hold you well and think we can
Make you, in your despite, a man.
'Tis here our wont, though strange it seems,To deal in solid facts, not dreams;For lies are lies, and gold is gold,And men are daily bought or sold.
'Tis here our wont, though strange it seems,
To deal in solid facts, not dreams;
For lies are lies, and gold is gold,
And men are daily bought or sold.
Parade the purlieus if you wishTo study poor-law and fried fish;There's much that waits to be improved,And an improver's rarely loved.
Parade the purlieus if you wish
To study poor-law and fried fish;
There's much that waits to be improved,
And an improver's rarely loved.
Or yours is the creative touch;We have a score of shops for such,Where novelties in paint and wordsAre scrutinized by lonely herds.
Or yours is the creative touch;
We have a score of shops for such,
Where novelties in paint and words
Are scrutinized by lonely herds.
Colour and motion are aglowIn streets above and tubes below.We energize: to meditateOnly befits a culture-state.
Colour and motion are aglow
In streets above and tubes below.
We energize: to meditate
Only befits a culture-state.
Such friends we'll give you as will proveThe world is only made of love;But life is necessary too,And vices, seeing you are you.
Such friends we'll give you as will prove
The world is only made of love;
But life is necessary too,
And vices, seeing you are you.
For in this pantomimic sceneThere's nothing common or unclean;You lodge upon the second floorAnd opposite a noted whore.
For in this pantomimic scene
There's nothing common or unclean;
You lodge upon the second floor
And opposite a noted whore.
So, when your dreams are laid to rest,You're part of what you most detest,And know this nightmare was made realTo dissipate a false ideal.
So, when your dreams are laid to rest,
You're part of what you most detest,
And know this nightmare was made real
To dissipate a false ideal.