## Evening

Here dies another day
During which I have had eyes, ears, hands
And the great world round me;
And with tomorrow begins another.
Why am I allowed two?

The Notebook.

Published in: on June 26, 2013 at 8:36 pm  Comments (1)

## “Solid blocks of fidelity”

The tyrant must find not one family but many families defying his power; he must find mankind not a dust of atoms, but fixed in solid blocks of fidelity. And those human groups must support not only themselves but each other. In this sense what some call individualism is as corporate as communism. It is a thing of volunteers; but volunteers must be soldiers. It is a defence of private persons; but we might say that the private persons must be private soldiers. The family must be recognised as well as real; above all, the family must be recognised by the families. To expect individuals to suffer successfully for a home apart from the home, that is for something which is an incident but not an institution, is really a confusion between two ideas; it is a verbal sophistry almost in the nature of a pun. Similarly, for instance, we cannot prove the moral force of a peasantry by pointing to one peasant; we might almost as well reveal the military force of infantry by pointing to one infant.

— The Superstition of Divorce (1920).

## Wine and Water

Old Noah he had an ostrich farm and
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ fowls on the largest scale,
He ate his egg with a ladle
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ in a egg-cup big as a pail,
And the soup he took was Elephant Soup
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ and fish he took was Whale,
But they all were small to the cellar he
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ took when he set out to sail,
And Noah he often said to his wife when
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ he sat down to dine,
“I don’t care where the water goes if it
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ doesn’t get into the wine.”

The cataract of the cliff of heaven fell
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ blinding off the brink
As if it would wash the stars away as suds
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ go down a sink,
The seven heavens came roaring down for
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ the throats of hell to drink,
And Noah he cocked his eye and said,
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ “It looks like rain, I think.
The water has drowned the Matterhorn
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ as deep as a Mendip mine,
But I don’t care where the water goes if it
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ doesn’t get into the wine.”

But Noah he sinned, and we have sinned;
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ on tipsy feet we trod,
Till a great big black teetotaller was sent
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ to us for a rod,
And you can’t get wine at a P. S. A., or
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ chapel, or Eisteddfod,
For the Curse of Water has come again
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ because of the wrath of God,
And water is on the Bishop’s board and
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ the Higher Thinker’s shrine,
But I don’t care where the water goes if it
$\,$ $\,$ $\,$ doesn’t get into the wine.

The Flying Inn (1914).