The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #59418   Message #1222510
Posted By: Amos
09-Jul-04 - 03:58 PM
Thread Name: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads

Song of the Little Hawk





Am I alone
                                  And unobserved? I am!

                              Then let me own
                                  I'm an aesthetic sham!

                              This air severe
                                  Is but a mere
                                                       Veneer!

                              This cynic smile
                                  Is but a wile
                                                       Of guile!

                              This costume chaste
                                  Is but good taste
                                                       Misplaced!

                                  Let me confess!
          A languid love for lilies does not blight me!
          Lank limbs and haggard cheeks do not delight me!
               I do not care for dirty greens
                     By any means.
                     I do not long for all one sees
                              That's Japanese.
                     I am not fond of uttering platitudes
                              In stained-glass attitudes.
                     In short, my medievalism's affectation,
                     Born of a morbid love of admiration!

If you're anxious for to shine in the high aesthetic line as a man of culture rare,
You must get up all the germs of the transcendental terms, and plant them
    everywhere.
You must lie upon the daisies and discourse in novel phrases of your complicated
    state of mind.
The meaning doesn't matter if it's only idle chatter of a transcendental kind.
                      And everyone will say,
                      As you walk your mystic way,
"If this young man expresses himself in terms too deep for me,
Why, what a very singularly deep young man this deep young man must be!"

Be eloquent in praise of the very dull old days which have long since passed
    away,
And convince 'em, if you can, that the reign of good Queen Anne was Culture's
    palmiest day.
Of course you will pooh-pooh whatever's fresh and new, and declare it's crude
    and mean,
For Art stopped short in the cultivated court of the Empress Josephine.
                      And everyone will say,
                      As you walk your mystic way,
"If that's not good enough for him which is good enough for me,
Why, what a very cultivated kind of youth this kind of youth must be!"

Then a sentimental passion of a vegetable fashion must excite your languid
    spleen,
An attachment à la Plato for a bashful young potato, or a not-too-French French
    bean!
Though the Philistines may jostle, you will rank as an apostle in the high
    aesthetic band,
If you walk down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily in your medieval hand.
                      And everyone will say,
                      As you walk your flowery way,
"If he's content with a vegetable love which would certainly not suit me,
Why, what a most particularly pure young man this pure young man must be!"