Original Poetry

Evening Star, Volume VII, Issue 1932, 15 July 1869, Page 3

Original Poetry

THE WORLD IS ALL OUT OF THE JOINT. MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE POET OF CEAIGIELEE. The world is all out of joint, False trumpets bray loud o’er the land ; (We had better speak straight to the point, And write with an unsparing hand.) The people are squeamish and proud, King “Self” is the ruler of all; The brain is encompassed with cloud, And the heart is well pickled in gall. Men laud and beslaver each other, With tongues all deceitful and black ; One minute they praise you, another They stab you most foul in the back. They jump all at once to conclusions When a fellow they wish to condemn ; When “ down” you have kicks in profusion, And your person is aught but a gem. Duplicity, hateful and crawling, A reptile of poison and slime, _ Through Society constantly trailing, Bedaubs and envenoms the time. "Wlio follows She precepts of old—■ “ Do to others as you’d be done by ’ 7 Some will for the pieces of gold Undertake to promulgate a lie. “ Do others as they would do you,” Is now of the maxim the version Who read it aright are the few, The many who take the perversion. Where, where is the true' Christian mind 7 O where is the doctrine of love 1 In practice, O where shall we find The law which came down from above 7 When the Master shall come for his own, Shall he find any faith upon earth ? Amid all the weeds that are grown, Will the fruit be e’er brought to the birth 7 There’s plenty of wrangling dispute. Of bitterness, brawling, and fighting ; But where is dear Charity ? Mute ! Her breast in some solitude smiting. Of “ worship,” and how to “ perform it,” Of creeds and sectarian stuff — Of “doctrine,” and how to “reform it,” We’ve argument surely enough. The preacher, all blind to his “ mission,” j Adds sparks to the burnings of strife ; ] The preached to know nought of submission, Nor care for the “ beautiful life.” O, where is the “ cloke” also “ given ’ ? O, where is the “ cheek ” that is “ turned” ? O, where are the “ seventy times seven?” j Where the good for the evil returned ? I The cloke’s for the hypocrites’ sin ; Tire cheek is aglow with revenge ; I The “ seventy times ” end and begin j The evil, with evil t’avenge. 0, where arc the peacemakers gone ? I O, where is the calmness of soul ? The Church—! he disciple of One Whose word the fierce waves could control! The world is all out of the joint, As the people will feel to their sorrow — The idol to-day they anoint May slide from their vision to-morrow. The world is all out of the joint, And the “ needle” has lost the attraction. It trembles and teers to each point, But the cpmpass is “ all out of action.” In the midst of a whirlpool of changes Men cling to each other for aid ; ’Tis folly ! True help in the dangers Upon mortal there never was laid. “■ Creation is groaning ” how long ! And the earth is in pain until now ; The wheels of the nations are wrong- - To right them what mortal knows how ! Little John. Stuart street, Dupedin, Jqly 10, 1809.