White Light Black Light

As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,

I Make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market-Place.

Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,

And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn

That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:

But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and

Breadth of Mind,

So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we

followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered

their pace,

Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods

of the Market-Place.

But they always caught up with our progress, and

presently word would come

That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or

the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they

were utterly out of touch

They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they

denied she was even Dutch

They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied

that a Pig had Wings.

So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who

promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They

promised perpetual peace. They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the

wars of the tribes would cease.

But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered

us bound to our foe,

And the Gods of the Copybook Heading said: "Stick

to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised

the Fuller Life

(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended

by loving his wife)

Till our women had no more children and the men

lost reason and faith,

And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The

Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised

abundance for all,

By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective

Paul;

But, though we had plenty of money, there was

nothing our money could buy,

And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If

you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their

smooth-tongued wizards withdrew,

And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and

began to believe it was true

That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and

Two make Four --

And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up

to explain it once more.

* * * *

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man --

There are only four things certain since Social

Progress began --

That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow

returns to her Mire,

And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes

wabbling back to the Fire --

And that after this is accomplished, and the

brave new world begins

When all men are paid for existing and no man

must pay for his sins

As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire

will burn

The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and

slaughter return!