The Sword of Song

PENTECOST 25 Still you’re young yet, scarce forty—we’ll hope at three score You’ll be more of a singer, and less of a whore. Each to his trade ! live out your life ! Fondle your child, and buss your wife ! Trust not, fear not, street straight and strong ! Don’t worry, but just get along. I used to envy all my Balti coolies21 In an inverse kind of religious hysteria, Though every one a perfect fool is, To judge by philosophic criteria, My Lord Archbishop. The name of Winchester, Harrow, or Eton22 makes them not two inches stir. 125 They know not Trinity, Merton, or Christchurch ; They worshi p, but not at y our back-pews-hi gh-priced Church. I’ve seen them at twenty thousand feet On the ice, in a snow-storm, at night fall, repeat Their prayer23—will your Grace do as much for your Three As they do for their One ? I have seen—may you see ! They sleep and know not what a mat is ; Seem to enjoy their cold chapaties ;* Are healthy, strong—and some are old. They do not care a damn24 for cold, Behave like children, trust in Allah ; (Flies in Mohammed’s spider-parlour !) They may not think : at least they dare Live out their lives, and little care Worries their souls—worse fools they seem Than even Christians. Do I dream ? Probing philosophy to marrow, What thought darts in its poisoned arrow But this ? (my wisdom, even to me, Seems folly) may their folly be True Wisdom ? O esteemed Tahuti !25 You are, you are, you are a beauty ! If after all these years of worship You hail Ra26 his bark or Nuit27 her ship * A flat cake of unleavened bread. As a m atter of fact they do not enjoy and indeed will not eat them, preferring “dok,” a paste of coarse flour and water, wrapped round a hot stone. It cooks gradually , and remains warm all day. 115 120 125 130 135 140 145 Live out thy life ! Charac- ter of Balti. His religious sincerity. Re- lations of poet and the Egyp- tian God of Wisdom. Crowley dis- missed with a jest.