Leonard Bacon.

The scrannel pipe, a book of verse online

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Online LibraryLeonard BaconThe scrannel pipe, a book of verse → online text (page 3 of 3)
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It means laboring forever with the mallet and the chisel,

And losing things you like when you are young.

It means swallowing your temper when the criticisms

And enduring all the triply-pointed torments of the



The world is more than lovely. She has reared me very


She was generous in comfort and in pelf,
But all she ever taught me was to criticize intently,
That moralizing idiot, I used to think myself.

He seemed hardly well adapted to so studious a scrutiny,
He couldn't stand examination well,
He seemed to be constructed out of selfishness and mutiny
And several of the thrice rejected corner-stones of Hell.

But praise to things in general, I'm pretty nearly through

with him,

I'm outbound for the Indies and the South,
And never, never, never will I shiver and be blue with

When no song is in my spirit and no music in my mouth.

I've taken up the quest again across the hollow seas

to her,

Sea-enamoured Lady of the years,
And I bear the sword of triumph and the music of my

peace to her
To shake my shames with battle, and to batter off my


Cast away your dirty canvas all soiled with shame and


Hoist aloft courageous wings anew,
We've thrown away our lading, that was naught and

good for nothing,
And we've strong new shrouds and rigging for the wind

to whistle through.


Down the huddled harbor, where the scurrying catspaws


Beyond the seawall where the tides are torn,
And we'll make the Happy Islands, if we have to eat the

And chase the Flying Dutchman round the ramparts of

the Horn.



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Online LibraryLeonard BaconThe scrannel pipe, a book of verse → online text (page 3 of 3)