The function of leadership is to produce more leaders, not more followers.
quote by Ralph Nader
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Related quotes
King Solomon And The Queen Of Sheba
(A Poem Game.)
“And when the Queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon, . . .
she came to prove him with hard questions.”
[The men’s leader rises as he sees the Queen unveiling
and approaching a position that gives her half of the stage.]
Men’s Leader: The Queen of Sheba came to see King Solomon.
[He bows three times.]
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon.
[She bows three times.]
Women’s Leader: I was the Queen,
I was the Queen,
I was the Queen.
Both Leaders: We will be king and queen,
[They stand together stretching their hands over the land.]
Reigning on mountains green,
Happy and free
For ten thousand years.
[They stagger forward as though carrying a yoke together.]
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred oxen.
Congregation: We were the oxen.
[Here King and Queen pause at the footlights.]
Both Leaders: You shall feel goads no more.
[They walk backward, throwing off the yoke and rejoicing.]
Walk dreadful roads no more,
Free from your loads
For ten thousand years.
[The men’s leader goes forward, the women’s leader dances round him.]
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred sweethearts.
[Here he pauses at the footlights.]
Congregation: We were the sweethearts.
[He walks backward. Both clap their hands to the measure.]
Both Leaders: You shall dance round again,
You shall dance round again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
[The Queen appears to gather wildflowers.]
[...] Read more
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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The Booker Washington Trilogy
I. A NEGRO SERMON:—SIMON LEGREE
(To be read in your own variety of negro dialect.)
Legree's big house was white and green.
His cotton-fields were the best to be seen.
He had strong horses and opulent cattle,
And bloodhounds bold, with chains that would rattle.
His garret was full of curious things:
Books of magic, bags of gold,
And rabbits' feet on long twine strings.
But he went down to the Devil.
Legree he sported a brass-buttoned coat,
A snake-skin necktie, a blood-red shirt.
Legree he had a beard like a goat,
And a thick hairy neck, and eyes like dirt.
His puffed-out cheeks were fish-belly white,
He had great long teeth, and an appetite.
He ate raw meat, 'most every meal,
And rolled his eyes till the cat would squeal.
His fist was an enormous size
To mash poor niggers that told him lies:
He was surely a witch-man in disguise.
But he went down to the Devil.
He wore hip-boots, and would wade all day
To capture his slaves that had fled away.
But he went down to the Devil.
He beat poor Uncle Tom to death
Who prayed for Legree with his last breath.
Then Uncle Tom to Eva flew,
To the high sanctoriums bright and new;
And Simon Legree stared up beneath,
And cracked his heels, and ground his teeth:
And went down to the Devil.
He crossed the yard in the storm and gloom;
He went into his grand front room.
He said, "I killed him, and I don't care."
He kicked a hound, he gave a swear;
He tightened his belt, he took a lamp,
Went down cellar to the webs and damp.
There in the middle of the mouldy floor
He heaved up a slab, he found a door —
And went down to the Devil.
[...] Read more
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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The Broad and The Narrow
When Christ started The Church He made things quite simple and clear,
However many are following Religious Leaders into ambiguity I fear.
Christ came to give us freedom through the Cross-of Salvation,
However many are following Religious Leaders on roads of damnation.
Christ told the early disciples of only one road in which to follow,
But today Religious Leaders try to make His words vain and hollow.
The only road is a narrow one, and you enter through a narrow gate,
This Truth is despised by Religious Leaders, who proclaim it is hate.
While very few find this road that leads to the only Resurrection,
A broader road is being paved by Religious Leaders to destruction.
It’s easy to get on this road through a wide gate and many are on it,
Being lead by Religious Leaders who Christ warned are false prophets.
They come to you in sheep’s clothing and appear to be pure and good,
But inwardly these Religious Leaders are darkened ferocious wolves.
In the end many will abandon the faith to follow hypocritical liars,
Lead by Religious Leaders with morals that were seared with an iron.
When you stand before The Lord, it’s only His words you will hear,
You can follow these Religious Leaders or The Lord with Holy Fear.
Will He say “Away from me” as you chose to be wicked and irreverent?
Or will you hear Him say, “Well done My fine and faithful servant”?
(Copyright © 07/2002)
poem by Bob Gotti
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Sexuality
Stand up everybody, this is your life
Let me take u to another world, let me take u tonight
U dont need no money, u dont need no clothes
The second coming, anything goes
Sexuality is all ull ever need
Sexuality -- let your body be free
Cmon everybody, yeah, this is your life
Im talking about a revolution we gotta organize
We dont need no segregation, we dont need no race
New age revelation, I think we got a case
Im ok as long as u are here with me
Sexuality is all we ever need
Reproduction of a new breed -- leaders, stand up, organize
Reproduction of a new breed -- leaders, stand up, organize
Reproduction of a new breed -- leaders, stand up, organize
Everybody...
Reproduction of a new breed -- leaders, stand up, organize
One time say...
Reproduction of a new breed -- leaders, stand up, organize
Reproduction of a new breed -- leaders, stand up, organize
We live in a world overrun by tourists
Tourists -- 89 flowers on their back...inventors of the accu-jack
They look at life through a pocket camera... what? no flash again?
Theyre all a bunch of double drags who teach their kids that love is bad
Half of the staff of their brain is on vacation
Mama, are u listening?
We need a new breed -- leaders, stand up, organize
Dont let your children watch television until they know how to read
Or else all theyll know how to do is cuss, fight and breed
No child is bad from the beginning... they only imitate their atmosphere
If theyre in the company of tourists, alcohol and us history
Whats to be expected is 3 minus 3... absolutely nothing
Stand up, organize
We need a new breed...leaders, stand up, organize
I wanna be in the new breed, stand up, organize
Sexuality is all Ill ever need
Sexuality, Im gonna let my body be free
Sexuality is all Ill ever need
Sexuality, Im gonna let my body be free
Sexuality
song performed by Prince
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The History Of Tomorrow
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of light
By dumping us in the dark with pits everywhere
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of food
By asking us to chop several fire-woods to heat up a pot full of stones
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of job creation
By making us slaves on our own soil
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of education
By dumping us in dilapidated buildings without teachers
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of accountability
By looting our treasury and asking us for yet another term in office
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of safety
By leaving pot holes large enough to swallow countless accident victims on our roads
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our bows and arrows
Would secure our future
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of a country, a country with countless heroes
It’s the history of a country, a country with countless robbers
Robbers with fame
Robbers without shame
Robbers that we would roast with flame
© Adegbenro Adekunle Jacob
Tomorrow’s history is today. All world leaders must make real democracy work. They must be selfless. We must not wait until there is horror and terror before we learn. Nigerian leaders must shun CORRUPTION.
poem by Adegbenro Adekunle
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Transformation Inquisition Saul Into Paul Of Tarsus
What caused miraculous;
transformation inquisition
Saul into Paul of Tarsus?
Saul had previously hated persecuted;
Jews who converted to Christianity
with fanatical deadly holocaust passion?
Infamous Saul of Tarsus;
had one crazed goal
for all followers of Jesus.
To capture then bring to public trial execution;
all Christians he could lay his hands on.
Saul an elite member of the Sanhedrin even
instigated approved ancient equivalent;
of vigilante mob lynchings public stonings.
Saul actively present when first Christian
martyr Stephen was by an angry mob killed;
assumed responsibility of guarding clothes
of all who zealously to death stoned Stephen.
For is it not written?
'At this they covered their ears
and, yelling at the top of their voices,
they all rushed at him, (Stephen)
dragged him out of the city and began
to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses
laid their clothes at the feet
of a young man named Saul.
While they were stoning him, Stephen
prayed, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.'
Then he fell on his knees
and cried out, 'Lord, do not hold this sin
against them.' When he had said this,
he fell asleep. (To death Stephen
was by the mob executed.) Acts 7: 57-60.
What did Saul think what then were his actions?
'Saul was there, giving approval to his death' Saul
for his part approved the mob murder of Stephen. Acts 8: 1.
Saul like a ravenous wolf after Stephen was martyred;
went door to door in Jerusalem finding Jews to arrest
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Kill The President
In a world without leaders
Whod start all the wars?
The world that your saving
Will always be yours
Kill the president
Listen to the voice of reason
Unify with that single line
Stop the man with the power
Of the goverment
A leaders not the center
Of democracy
In a world without leaders
Whod make people starve?
The world that were saving
Will always be ours
Everyone says
Well maybe Ill make a difference
Thinking theyve got plenty of time
But youre squezed
A little tighter everyday
Finished before you can commit a crime
In a world without leaders
Whod start all the wars?
The world that your saving
Will always be yours
Kill the president
Listen to the voice of reason
Unify with that single line
Stop the man with the power
Of the goverment
A leaders not the center
Of democracy
America
All of your eminies
Come from within
But you lash out so
It is seen
Like some frightened child
In an angry world
Or the fall of rome
Your demise comes
From your own hands
In a world without leaders
Whod start all the wars?
The world that your saving
Will always be yours
In a world without leaders
We might have a chance
But well never see it
As long as theres
song performed by Offspring
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto VI.
I.
O who, that shared them, ever shall forget
The emotions of the spirit-rousing time,
When breathless in the mart the couriers met,
Early and late, at evening and at prime;
When the loud cannon and the merry chime
Hail'd news on news, as field on field was won,
When Hope, long doubtful, soar'd at length sublime,
And our glad eyes, awake as day begun,
Watch'd Joy's broad banner rise, to meet the rising sun!
O these were hours, when thrilling joy repaid
A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears!
The heart-sick faintness of the hope delay'd,
The waste, the woe, the bloodshed, and the tears,
That track'd with terror twenty rolling years,
All was forgot in that blithe jubilee!
Her downcast eye even pale Affliction rears,
To sigh a thankful prayer, amid the glee,
That hail'd the Despot's fall, and peace and liberty!
Such news o'er Scotland's hills triumphant rode,
When 'gainst the invaders turn'd the battle's scale,
When Bruce's banner had victorious flow'd
O'er Loudoun's mountain, and in Ury's vale;
And fiery English blood oft deluged Douglas-dale,
And fiery Edward routed stout St. John,
When Randolph's war-cry swell'd the southern gale,
And many a fortress, town, and tower, was won,
And fame still sounded forth fresh deeds of glory done.
II.
Blithe tidings flew from baron's tower,
To peasant's cot, to forest-bower,
And waked the solitary cell,
Where lone Saint Bride's recluses dwell.
Princess no more, fair Isabel,
A vot'ress of the order now,
Say, did the rule that bid thee wear
Dim veil and wollen scapulare,
And reft thy locks of dark-brown hair,
That stern and rigid vow,
Did it condemn the transport high,
Which glisten'd in thy watery eye,
When minstrel or when palmer told
Each fresh exploit of Bruce the bold?-
And whose the lovely form, that shares
Thy anxious hopes, thy fears, thy prayers?
No sister she of convent shade;
So say these locks in lengthen'd braid,
So say the blushes and the sighs,
[...] Read more
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The leader is one who mobilizes others toward a goal shared by leaders and followers... Leaders, followers and goals make up the three equally necessary supports for leadership.
quote by Gary Wills
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I start with the premise that the function of leadership is to produce more leaders, not more followers.
quote by Ralph Nader
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Fall Out
Words and music by Stewart Copeland
I never thought of leading
I've got my own machine
And I've paid my dues all along
All set for breaking
When I missed those other people
'Cause I knew that I was really alone
Fall out
Fall out with all the leaders and guys
Fall out
Fall out with all the leaders and guys
I saw my education
It was my indocrination
Just to be another parking machine
All my sense was breaking
When I missed those other people
'Cause I knew that I was not very clean
Fall out
Fall out with all the leaders and guys
Fall out
Fall out with all the leaders and guys
Fall out
Fall out with all the leaders and guys
Fall out
Fall out with all the leaders and guys
Fall out
song performed by Police
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Good Leaders
When leaders are by God appointed, then,
They must do things decreed by Providence;
And in ways according to their conscience,
Or else, they will crash down to earth, sudden!
All leaders must be good like Holy Lord;
Their subjects must be well-off in their rule;
The foolish king invites the wrath of God;
The atheist who rules will be a fool!
All things on earth are decreed by heaven;
All souls must tread the path destined by God;
By God, mankind was made to be even;
Depends on each to get award or rod!
God knows the problems leaders have to face;
God bestows wisdom needed to solve things;
Their sense of values, morals must be base;
Let leaders dole fairness to all earthlings!
Let leaders be wary of what they do;
The law shouldn’t give freedom to men to sin;
The good from ages, they must not undo;
The war with Satan, they must always win!
God laughs at earthly leaders for their pride;
They dare not take divine things for a ride;
First and foremost, they must in God abide;
Provoking God would like suicide!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-22-2009
poem by John Celes
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Vision Of Columbus - Book 4
In one dark age, beneath a single hand,
Thus rose an empire in the savage land.
Her golden seats, with following years, increase,
Her growing nations spread the walks of peace,
Her sacred rites display the purest plan,
That e'er adorn'd the unguided mind of man.
Yet all the pomp, the extended climes unfold,
The fields of verdure and the towers of gold,
Those works of peace, and sovereign scenes of state,
In short-lived glory, hasten to their fate.
Thy followers, rushing like an angry flood,
Shall whelm the fields and stain the shrines in blood;
Nor thou, Las Casas, best of men, shalt stay
The ravening legions from their guardless prey.
Oh! hapless prelate, hero, saint and sage,
Doom'd with hard guilt a fruitless war to wage,
To see, with grief (thy life of virtues run)
A realm unpeopled and a world undone.
While impious Valverde, mock of priesthood, stands,
Guilt in his heart, the gospel in his hands,
Bids, in one field, unnumber'd squadrons bleed,
Smiles o'er the scene and sanctifies the deed.
And thou, brave Gasca, with thy virtuous train,
Shalt lift the sword and urge thy power in vain;
Vain, the late task, the sinking land to save,
Or call her slaughter'd millions from the grave.
The Seraph spoke. Columbus, with a sigh,
Cast o'er the hapless climes his moisten'd eye,
And thus return'd: Oh, hide me in the tomb;
Why should I live to view the impending doom?
If such dread scenes the scheme of heaven compose,
And virtuous toils induce redoubled woes,
Unfold no more; but grant a kind release,
Give me, 'tis all I ask, to rest in peace.
Thy soul shall rest in peace, the Power rejoin'd,
Ere these conflicting shades involve mankind:
But nobler views shall first thy mind engage,
Beyond the bounds of this destructive age;
Where happier fruits of thy unwearied toil,
Thro' future years, and other empires, smile.
Europe's contending realms shall soon behold
These fruitful plains and hills of opening gold,
Fair in the path of thy adventurous fail,
Their countless navies float in every gale,
For wealth and commerce, sweep the extended shore,
And load the ocean with the shining ore.
As, up the orient heaven, the dawning ray
Smiles o'er the world and gives the promised day;
Drives fraud and rapine from their nightly spoil,
And social nature wakes to peaceful toil;
[...] Read more
poem by Joel Barlow
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto V.
I.
On fair Loch-Ranza stream'd the early day,
Thin wreaths of cottage-smoke are upward curl'd
From the lone hamlet, which her inland bay
And circling mountains sever from the world.
And there the fisherman his sail unfurl'd,
The goat-herd drove his kids to steep Ben-Ghoil,
Before the hut the dame her spindle twirl'd,
Courting the sunbeam as she plied her toil, -
For, wake where'er he may, Man wakes to care and coil.
But other duties call'd each convent maid,
Roused by the summons of the moss-grown bell;
Sung were the matins, and the mass was said,
And every sister sought her separate cell,
Such was the rule, her rosary to tell.
And Isabel has knelt in lonely prayer;
The sunbeam, through the narrow lattice, fell
Upon the snowy neck and long dark hair,
As stoop'd her gentle head in meek devotion there.
II.
She raised her eyes, that duty done,
When glanced upon the pavement-stone,
Gemm'd and enchased, a golden ring,
Bound to a scroll with silken string,
With few brief words inscribed to tell,
'This for the Lady Isabel.'
Within, the writing farther bore,-
''Twas with this ring his plight he swore,
With this his promise I restore;
To her who can the heart command,
Well may I yield the plighted hand.
And O! for better fortune born,
Grudge not a passing sigh to mourn
Her who was Edith once of Lorn!'
One single flash of glad surprise
Just glanced from Isabel's dark eyes,
But vanish'd in the blush of shame,
That, as its penance, instant came.
'O thought unworthy of my race!
Selfish, ungenerous, mean, and base,
A moment's throb of joy to own,
That rose upon her hopes o'erthrown!-
Thou pledge of vows too well believed,
Of man ingrate and maid deceived,
Think not thy lustre here shall gain
Another heart to hope in vain!
For thou shalt rest, thou tempting gaud,
Where worldly thoughts are overawed,
[...] Read more
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Camp Followers
In the old wars of the world there were camp-followers,
Women of ancient sins who gave themselves for hire,
Women of weak wills and strong desire.
And, like the poison ivy in the woods
That winds itself about tall virile trees
Until it smothers them, so these
Ruined the bodies and the souls of men.
More evil were they than Red War itself,
Or Pestilence, or Famine. Now in this war-
This last most awful carnage of the world-
All the old wickedness exists as then:
But as a foul stream from a festering fen
Is met and scattered by a mountain brook
Leaping along its beautiful, bright course,
So now the force
Of these new Followers of the camp has come
Straight from God's Source
To cleanse the world and cleanse the minds of men.
Good women, of great courage and large hearts,
Women whose slogan is self-sacrifice,
Willing to pay the price
God asks of pioneers, now play their parts
In this stupendous drama of the age
As Followers of the Camps.
They come in the name of God our Father,
They come in the name of Christ our Brother,
They come in the name of All Humanity,
To give their gold, their labour, and their love
To help the suffering souls in this war-riddled earth,
The New Women of the Race-
The New Camp Followers-
The Centuries shall do honour to their names.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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O! Buddha Look Behind
O! Buddha look behind for a while,
And see how in the religious
Narrow mindedness what havoc
Your followers play with the humanity.
Though I do not regard you a prophet,
Yet no less than towering apostles of the time.
See how followers of Muhammad (PBUH)
And Alia are victimized by your deviated cliques,
They bestow you grandeur and dignity,
Hundreds of years before they hailed upon the Earth.
O! Buddha look behind for a while,
And remember how you were troubled,
On seeing sufferings of the human fellows,
Irrespective to caste creed and colour.
Remember how often you wept at nights,
Discarding all regal pleasures of the palace,
You escaped to the nearby woodland,
And mediated for weeks by exposing
Yourself to the winds and harshness of weather,
And once you saw the Enlightenment
Beneath a thick shady Banyan.
I have a belief in presence of the Omnipresent,
And the enlightenment was his manifestation,
You found the existence but I have a faith.
O! Buddha look behind for a while,
And remember how you prayed for
That some thirsty animal should quench
Thirst by drinking your blood,
And the starved hungry by eating your flesh,
The shivering beings in cold might warm themselves,
By burning your bones, and the needy naked
Might clad by stitching the dress of your skin.
O! Buddha look behind for a while,
How your followers distorted your teachings,
They on plains and forest of Burma,
Have fried in the cauldrons the kids and infants,
Of the followers of Muhammad (PBUH) and Alia:
Whom you dreamt, you founded the religion,
They are being rustled in the boiling oil,
Men and women are being chased to death,
Their limbs are being cut asunder with sharp
Weapons: swords, rapiers, daggers and knives,
Their chests are perforated with the bullets,
Streets of the cities and villages are coloured red,
Blood is splattered all-around and smoke rises
From ashes of the burnt cottages,
[...] Read more
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Eight Easy Steps
How to stay paralyzed by fear of abandonment
How to defer to men in solve-able predicaments
How to control someone to be a carbon copy of you
How to have that not work and have them run away from you
How to keep people at arm's length and never get too close
How to mistrust the ones you supposedly love the most
How to pretend you're fine and don't need help from anyone
How to feel worthless unless you're serving or helping someone
I'll teach you all this in eight easy steps
A course of a lifetime you'll never forget
I'll show you how to in eight easy steps
I'll show you how leadership looks when taught by the best
How to hate women when you're supposed to be a feminist
How to play all pious when you're really a hypocrite
How to hate god when you're a pray-er and a spiritualist
How to sabotage your fantasies by fears of success
I'll teach you all this in eight easy steps
A course of a lifetime you'll never forget
I'll show you how to in eight easy steps
I'll show you how leadership looks when taught by the best
I've been doing research for years
I've been practicing my ass off
I've been training my whole life for this moment I swear to you
Culminating just to be this well-versed leader before you
I'll teach you all this in eight easy steps
A course of a lifetime you'll never forget
I'll show you how to in eight easy steps
I'll show you how leadership looks when taught by the best
How to lie to yourself and thereby to everyone else
How to keep smiling when you're thinking of killing yourself
How to numb a la holic to avoid going within
How to stay stuck in blue by blaming them for everything
I'll teach you all this in eight easy steps
A course of a lifetime you'll never forget
I'll show you how to in eight easy steps
I'll show you how leadership looks when taught by the best
song performed by Alanis Morissette
Added by Lucian Velea
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True Leadership Offends
A true leadership offends.
Especially those who have grown,
To believe...
Their lack of comprehending it,
Depends upon how often...
They can prevent true leadership,
From becoming one that succeeds.
People scream for representation.
And delay those factors...
By an increased agitation.
But it is they who betray themselves this way!
With a determination stuck,
In a vapid decay.
A true leadership offends.
Especially those who have grown,
To believe...
Their lack of comprehending it,
Depends upon how often...
They can prevent true leadership,
From becoming one that succeeds.
With wishes of an independence,
That fractures and does not mend.
Raises false hopes of a failed democracy.
That eventaully introduces oppressive tyranny!
Giving a people spoiled by greed...
Exactly the kind of government,
No longer providing individual needs.
A tyranny comes to control as done.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Euro Zero Zero
(vowles, del naja, marshall, tricky, norfolk, locke)
3d
Sitting in my day care
It was day-glo painted
You see me Im a drinker
You see me now Im sainted
Chased by the plaintive
Haunted by the medium
Too high to flow too bored to break the tedium
Glow from my tv set was blue like neon
Activate the remote I put the bbc on
Ive seen this city, so on
Im looking out for no-one
Pilot in my eye it gets blue like neon
It gets blue like neon
It gets blue like neon
Horace andy
Cant see nothing wrong
Cant be nothing wrong
Inside of me
Daddy g
I walk in a bar, immediately sense danger
You look at me, girl, as if I was a
A total stranger
3d
Hysterical, ecstatical no matter, call me stags(? )
Its kind of hard to get a drink or
Just a girl to relax on
Phono, no go zone I go through
Aching aways just to relocate you
Kill us with your fist
So you mix it with me
I function better when I get approximately
High by my technical flyby
I function better with the sun in my eyes
I function better with the sun in my eyes
I function better with the sun in my eyes
Horace andy
Cant see nothing wrong
Cant be nothing wrong
Inside of me
Daddy g
Take a second of me you beckon Ill be
And when youre sad Ill mourn
And when youre down Im torn
Take a second of me
Said take a second of me
I stand firm for our soil
Lick a rock on foil
Reduce me, seduce me
[...] Read more
song performed by Massive Attack
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Conversation
Though nature weigh our talents, and dispense
To every man his modicum of sense,
And Conversation in its better part
May be esteem'd a gift, and not an art,
Yet much depends, as in the tiller’s toil,
On culture, and the sowing of the soil.
Words learn'd by rote a parrot may rehearse,
But talking is not always to converse;
Not more distinct from harmony divine,
The constant creaking of a country sign.
As alphabets in ivory employ,
Hour after hour, the yet unletter’d boy,
Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee
Those seeds of science call’d his a b c;
So language in the mouths of the adult,
Witness its insignificant result,
Too often proves an implement of play,
A toy to sport with, and pass time away.
Collect at evening what the day brought forth,
Compress the sum into its solid worth,
And if it weigh the importance of a fly,
The scales are false, or algebra a lie.
Sacred interpreter of human thought,
How few respect or use thee as they ought!
But all shall give account of every wrong,
Who dare dishonour or defile the tongue;
Who prostitute it in the cause of vice,
Or sell their glory at a market-price;
Who vote for hire, or point it with lampoon,
The dear-bought placeman, and the cheap buffoon.
There is a prurience in the speech of some,
Wrath stays him, or else God would strike them dumb;
His wise forbearance has their end in view,
They fill their measure and receive their due.
The heathen lawgivers of ancient days,
Names almost worthy of a Christian’s praise,
Would drive them forth from the resort of men,
And shut up every satyr in his den.
Oh, come not ye near innocence and truth,
Ye worms that eat into the bud of youth!
Infectious as impure, your blighting power
Taints in its rudiments the promised flower;
Its odour perish’d, and its charming hue,
Thenceforth ‘tis hateful, for it smells of you.
Not e’en the vigorous and headlong rage
Of adolescence, or a firmer age,
Affords a plea allowable or just
For making speech the pamperer of lust;
But when the breath of age commits the fault,
‘Tis nauseous as the vapour of a vault.
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poem by William Cowper
Added by Poetry Lover
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