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A Satire Anthology
Автор
Год написания книги
2017
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Make merry while we have our little Boom,
Ourselves must we give way to next month’s Set —
Girls with Three Names, who know not Who from Whom!
As then the Poet for his morning Sup
Fills with a Metaphor his mental Cup,
Do you devoutly read your Manuscripts
That Someone may, before you burn them up!
And if the Bosh you write, the Trash you read,
End in the Garbage-Barrel – take no Heed;
Think that you are no worse than other Scribes,
Who scribble Stuff to meet the Public Need.
So, when WHO’S-WHO records your silly Name,
You’ll think that you have found the Road to Fame;
And though ten thousand other Names are there,
You’ll fancy you’re a Genius, just the Same!
Why, if an Author can fling Art aside,
And in a Book of Balderdash take pride,
Were’t not a Shame – were’t not a Shame for him
A Conscientious Novel to have tried?
And fear not, if the Editor refuse
Your work, he has no more from which to choose;
The Literary Microbe shall bring forth
Millions of Manuscripts too bad to use.
The Woman’s Touch runs through our Magazines;
For her the Home, and Mother-Tale, and Scenes
Of Love-and-Action, Happy at the End —
The same old Plots, the same old Ways and Means.
But if, in spite of this, you build a Plot
Which these immortal Elements has not,
You gaze To-Day upon a Slip, which reads,
“The Editor Regrets” – and such-like Rot.
Waste not your Ink, and don’t attempt to use
That subtle Touch which Editors refuse;
Better be jocund at two cents a word,
Than, starving, court an ill-requited Muse!
Strange – is it not? – that of the Authors who
Publish in England, such a mighty Few
Make a Success, though here they score a Hit?
The British Public knows a Thing or Two!
The Scribe no question makes of Verse or Prose,
But what the Editor demands, he shows;
And he who buys three thousand words of Drool,
He knows what People want – you Bet He knows!
Would but some wingéd Angel bring the News
Of Critic who reads Books that he Reviews,
And make the stern Reviewer do as well
Himself, before he Meed of Praise refuse!
Ah, Love, could you and I perchance succeed
In boiling down the Million Books we read
Into One Book, and edit that a Bit —
There’d be a World’s Best Literature indeed!
Gelett Burgess.
BALLADE OF EXPANSION
1899
TIME was he sang the British Brute,
The ruthless lion’s grasping greed,
The European Law of Loot,
The despot’s devastating deed;
But now he sings the heavenly creed
Of saintly sword and friendly fist,
He loves you, though he makes you bleed —
The Ethical Expansionist!
He loves you, Heathen! Though his foot
May kick you like a worthless weed
From that wild field where you have root,
And scatter to the winds your seed;
He’s just the government you need;
If you object, why, he’ll insist,
And, on your protest, “draw a bead” —
The Ethical Expansionist!
He’ll take you to him coute que coute!
He’ll win you, though you fight and plead.
His guns shall urge his ardent suit,
Relentless fire his cause shall speed.
In time you’ll learn to write and read,
(That is, if you should then exist!)
You won’t, if you his course impede —
The Ethical Expansionist!
ENVIO
Heathen, you must, you shall be freed!
It’s really useless to resist;
Ourselves must we give way to next month’s Set —
Girls with Three Names, who know not Who from Whom!
As then the Poet for his morning Sup
Fills with a Metaphor his mental Cup,
Do you devoutly read your Manuscripts
That Someone may, before you burn them up!
And if the Bosh you write, the Trash you read,
End in the Garbage-Barrel – take no Heed;
Think that you are no worse than other Scribes,
Who scribble Stuff to meet the Public Need.
So, when WHO’S-WHO records your silly Name,
You’ll think that you have found the Road to Fame;
And though ten thousand other Names are there,
You’ll fancy you’re a Genius, just the Same!
Why, if an Author can fling Art aside,
And in a Book of Balderdash take pride,
Were’t not a Shame – were’t not a Shame for him
A Conscientious Novel to have tried?
And fear not, if the Editor refuse
Your work, he has no more from which to choose;
The Literary Microbe shall bring forth
Millions of Manuscripts too bad to use.
The Woman’s Touch runs through our Magazines;
For her the Home, and Mother-Tale, and Scenes
Of Love-and-Action, Happy at the End —
The same old Plots, the same old Ways and Means.
But if, in spite of this, you build a Plot
Which these immortal Elements has not,
You gaze To-Day upon a Slip, which reads,
“The Editor Regrets” – and such-like Rot.
Waste not your Ink, and don’t attempt to use
That subtle Touch which Editors refuse;
Better be jocund at two cents a word,
Than, starving, court an ill-requited Muse!
Strange – is it not? – that of the Authors who
Publish in England, such a mighty Few
Make a Success, though here they score a Hit?
The British Public knows a Thing or Two!
The Scribe no question makes of Verse or Prose,
But what the Editor demands, he shows;
And he who buys three thousand words of Drool,
He knows what People want – you Bet He knows!
Would but some wingéd Angel bring the News
Of Critic who reads Books that he Reviews,
And make the stern Reviewer do as well
Himself, before he Meed of Praise refuse!
Ah, Love, could you and I perchance succeed
In boiling down the Million Books we read
Into One Book, and edit that a Bit —
There’d be a World’s Best Literature indeed!
Gelett Burgess.
BALLADE OF EXPANSION
1899
TIME was he sang the British Brute,
The ruthless lion’s grasping greed,
The European Law of Loot,
The despot’s devastating deed;
But now he sings the heavenly creed
Of saintly sword and friendly fist,
He loves you, though he makes you bleed —
The Ethical Expansionist!
He loves you, Heathen! Though his foot
May kick you like a worthless weed
From that wild field where you have root,
And scatter to the winds your seed;
He’s just the government you need;
If you object, why, he’ll insist,
And, on your protest, “draw a bead” —
The Ethical Expansionist!
He’ll take you to him coute que coute!
He’ll win you, though you fight and plead.
His guns shall urge his ardent suit,
Relentless fire his cause shall speed.
In time you’ll learn to write and read,
(That is, if you should then exist!)
You won’t, if you his course impede —
The Ethical Expansionist!
ENVIO
Heathen, you must, you shall be freed!
It’s really useless to resist;
Другие электронные книги автора Carolyn Wells
Последний отзыв
Книга дельная. Без воды, приводятся реальные кейсы и способы их разрешения. Много практичных полезных советов и методик. Кое-что уже испробовала в дел...
Далее