Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LOGIC, by PATRICK MACGILL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LOGIC, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Palmam qui meruit ferat'-he who wins the
Last Line: Are wise.
Subject(s): Books; Poetry & Poets; Writing & Writers; Reading


"PALMAM qui meruit ferat" — he who wins the palm should bear it, for I
certainly admit,
Being but the super-navvy, burdened with the hod,
vous-savez, I've no wish to carry it.
I don't pose as one who knows an awful lot about
Spinoza, or some other ancient seer,
I don't wear a sort of faintly dawning, growing, super-saintly imitation of a
sneer,
But withal I've a prolific knowledge of the scientific which I've picked up here

and there,
And a little super-added from the lore of those who pad it on the road to
anywhere.

In my knockabout existence, on the line of least resistance, I have plodded day

by day,
And of course from the beginning I have done a lot of sinning in a very vulgar
way,
And you'll find I'm no exception in æsthetical perception of the art that
lies in lies,
So each item of my tale is to be read, cum grano salis, as it will, since ye are

wise.

Here a man lays money by him. My life's rule is "Carpe diem," and at last a day

will be
When they'll gladly write, "Hic Jacet," on a marble slab and place it over him;

but as for me,
Everyone can do without me, no one cares a damn about me, no one's sorry when I

slide —
But it is a trifle funny, when he's dead, the man of money, someone's hellish
satisfied.

I am one of those who know it, it takes more to make a poet than a mass of
flowing hair,
I have tried the thing already, so my friend, "Experto crede," listen to me and

beware.
Homer was a parish beggar, Burns had to measure lager, or some other beverage,
Poor old Villon had to take a jemmy in his hand to make an ill-begotten living
wage —
What's the good of writing of the stars and skies that are above the world you
rhyme upon so well —
Rhyme in sentimental gushes of your Angelina's blushes — if your verses do

not sell?

I have read Montaigne and Dante in the dead end or the shanty, which you'll
certainly agree
May be due in greatest measure to the economic pressure and the hurried times
that be —
"Otium cum dignitate," for some problem rather weighty, certainly I've never
had,
For you'll find it hard to learn, all the views of Kant or Sterne, hashing on
the barrow squad —
But apart from that the fact is, if you put it into practice, put your knowledge

into rhyme,
Do it up as this is done up, spin it up as this is spun up, you are scoring
every time.

There are lots of folks who clamour that the man who strikes the hammer, cannot,

though he likes to, rise
From the squalor of the masses to the glory of Parnassus, which I might remark
is lies —
'Tis a pretty wide expansion from the muckpile to the mansion, some, and many
still may rave,
Yet they know (at least they ought to) that tho' far removed it's not too far
from either to the grave.

I have taken oft the oddest little moment for a modest glance at Tolstoy or at
Taine,
While the boss was kicking hell up I've been trying to develop the resources of

my brain,
Or when burst as burst at nap I meditated quite unhappy on the lore of ancient
fools,
On some grim platonic sages who had never lost their wages in the fishy gambling

schools,
On the white road leading through the land of "No one wants you," to the land of

"What you should have done,"
I have plodded day and daily, sometimes woeful, sometimes gaily, brother of the

wind and sun,

For companions I have taken — Shakespeare, Old Khayyam, or Bacon and have
sat beneath the bough,
But no loaf and flask was near me, so old Bacon could n't cheer me —
Shakespeare had forgotten how —
Though a lack of education makes one lack appreciation of the greatest minds of

earth,
Still you'll find that ne'er a rub is harder borne than lack of grub is, while
you estimate their worth.

If a man says, "Gee up, Neddy," in uncultured words and ready, suffer him and
let him pass,
"Proceed, Edward" is so toffish that it seems a little offish, when you say it
to an ass —
So I hope my wisdom scraps will be esteemed — but they perhaps will be
regarded just as lies,
And remember that my tale is to be read, "cum grano salis," as it will, for you

are wise.





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