The Glugs of Gosh | Page 2

to, but softly; then think.
Throw wide the portals and let your thoughts run?Over the earth like a galloping herd.?Bounds to profundity let there be none,?Let there be nothing too madly absurd.?Ponder on pebbles or stock exchange shares,?On the mission of man or the life of a bug,?On planets or billiards, policemen or bears,?Alert all the time for the sight of a Glug.
Meditate deeply on softgoods or sex,?On carraway seeds or the causes of bills,?Biology, art, or mysterious wrecks,?Or the tattered white fleeces of clouds on blue hills.?Muse upon ologies, freckles and fog,?Why hermits live lonely and grapes in a bunch,?On the ways of a child or the mind of a dog,?Or the oyster you bolted last Friday at lunch.
Heard you no sound like a shuddering sigh!?Or the great shout of laughter that swept down the sky??Saw you no sign on the wide Milky Way??Then there's naught left to you now but to pray.
Sit you at eve when the Shepherd in Blue?Calls from the West to his clustering sheep.?Then pray for the moods that old mariners woo,?For the thoughts of young mothers who watch their babes sleep. Pray for the heart of an innocent child,?For the tolerant scorn of a weary old man,?For the petulant grief of a prophet reviled,?For the wisdom you lost when your whiskers began.
Pray for the pleasures that he who was you?Found in the mud of a shower-fed pool,?For the fears that he felt and the joys that he knew?When a little green lizard crept into the school.?Pray as they pray who are maddened by wine:?For distraction from self and a spirit at rest.?Now, deep in the heart of you search for a sign--?If there be naught of it, vain is your quest.
Lay down the book, for to follow the tale?Were to trade in false blame, as all mortals who fail.?And may the gods salve you on life's dreary round;?For 'tis whispered: "Who finds not, 'tis he shall be found!"
II. JOI, THE GLUG
The Glugs abide in a far, far land?That is partly pebbles and stones and sand
But mainly earth of a chocolate hue,?When it isn't purple or slightly blue.?And the Glugs live there with their aunts and their wives,?In draught-proof tenements all their lives.
And they climb the trees when the weather is wet,?To see how high they can really get.
Pray, don't forget,?This is chiefly done when the weather is wet.
And every shadow that flits and hides,?And every stream that glistens and glides
And laughs its way from a highland height,?All know the Glugs quite well by sight.?And they say, "Our test is the best by far;?For a Glug is a Glug; so there you are!
And they climb the trees when it drizzles or hails?To get electricity into their nails;
And the Glug that fails?Is a luckless Glug, if it drizzles or hails."
Now, the Glugs abide in the lands of Gosh;?And they work all day for the sake of Splosh.
For Splosh, the First, is the Nation's pride,?And King of the Glugs, on his uncle's side.?And they sleep at night, for the sake of rest;?For their doctors say this suits them best.
And they climb the trees, as a general rule,?For exercise, when the weather is cool.
They're taught at school?To climb the trees when the weather is cool.
And the whispering grass on the gay green hills?And every cricket that skirls and shrills,
And every moonbeam, gleaming white,?All know the Glugs quite well by sight.?And they say, "It is safe, it is the test we bring;?For a Glug is an awful Gluglike thing.
And they climb the trees when there's a sign of fog,?To scan the land for a feasible dog.
They love to jog?Thro' dells in quest of a feasible dog."
The Glugs eat meals three times a day?Because their fathers ate that way.
Their grandpas said the scheme was good?To help the Glugs digest their food.?And 'tis wholesome food the Glugs have got,?For it says so plain on the tin and pot.
And they climb the trees when the weather is dry?To get a glimpse of the pale green sky.
We don't know why,?But they like to gaze on the pale green sky.
And every cloud that sails aloft,?And every breeze that blows so soft,
And every star that shines at night,?All know the Glugs quite well by sight.?For they say, "Our test, it is safe and true;?What one Glug does, the other Glugs do;
And they climb the trees when the weather is hot,?For a birds'-eye view of the garden plot.
Of course, it's rot,?But they love that view of the garden plot."
At half-past two on a Wednesday morn?A most peculiar Glug was born;
And later on, when he grew a man,?He scoffed and sneered at the Chosen Plan.?"It's wrong!" said this Glug, whose name was Joi.?"Bah!" said the Glugs. "He's a crazy boy!"
And they climbed the trees, as the West wind stirred,?To hark to the note of the Guffer Bird.
It seems