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** This is an archived, static copy of the Casebook messages boards dating from 1998 to 2003. These threads cannot be replied to here. If you want to participate in our current forums please go to https://forum.casebook.org **
Truth and the Diary -- A Poem
Casebook Message Boards: The Diary of Jack the Ripper: Diary of Jack the Ripper:
Truth and the Diary -- A Poem
Author: Christopher T George
Wednesday, 28 August 2002 - 01:14 pm |        | Truth and the Diary
Whose diary is this I think I know.
My body lies in the graveyard though;
They will not see me stopping here
To read these words that pain me so.
My reputation must be smeared
To find my name written clear!
I say, my friends, is this a joke?
The darkest development of my years!
This crime gives my character a poke,
So I ask is there some mistake?
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy lies and money made.
But still death is lovely, dark and deep.
And I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When truth died and was lain
In an adjoining room.
You questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth—-the two are one;
We brethren are," you said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our fame.
Now all strain to know our names!
Truth is dead, shall this crime be ignored?
The last victim was truth, it’s all the same!
Let lies cease to poison for evermore!
Christopher T. George
(After Robert Frost and Emily Dickinson) |
Author: Andy & Sue Parlour
Thursday, 29 August 2002 - 03:57 am | | Christopher T.
Superb! Have you read any of James Kenneth Stephen?
A. |
Author: Christopher T George
Thursday, 29 August 2002 - 06:26 am | | Hi, Andy:
Thanks. Glad you like the poem!
To answer your query, I have read the snippets of J. K. Stephen's verse that are cited in support of his candidacy for JtR but I have not had any extensive exposure to his verse so far.
All the best
Chris |
Author: Andy & Sue Parlour
Thursday, 29 August 2002 - 02:28 pm | | Christopher T.
Forget about J.K.Stephen as far as JTR is concerned. Just get hold of one of his small books of verse, either Lapsus Calami or Quo Musa Tendis or the collected works of JK put together by his brother Herbert Stephen. I guarrantee you will not be dissapointed.
A. |
Author: Christopher T George
Thursday, 29 August 2002 - 06:15 pm | | Hi, Andy:
Thanks for referring me to J. K. Stephen's Lapsus Calami or Quo Musa Tendis or the collected works put together by his brother Herbert Stephen. I will seek them out!
All the best
Chris |
Author: Andy & Sue Parlour
Friday, 30 August 2002 - 04:44 am | | Christopher T.
Try www.abebooks.com
I have noticed there are some on that site.
A. |
Author: Christopher T George
Friday, 30 August 2002 - 01:41 pm | | Thanks, Andy. Here's a revision of the poem:
Death and Truth
Whose diary is this people think they know.
My body lies in the graveyard though;
They will not see me stopping here
To read these words that pain me so.
Herein my reputation's smeared
I shan't rest till I see it cleared.
This wicked calumny's no joke.
'Tis the darkest stain on my years!
In this instrument truth is choked.
Who will rectify the mistake?
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy lies and money made.
But death is lovely, dark and deep.
And I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Last night I lay asleeping,
There came a dream so fair;
I saw my home in Aigburth long ago
Beside the cricket ground there.
I heard my wife and children singing,
Our favorite hymn, "The Holy City"--
"Me thought the voice of angels
From heav'n in answer rang;
Me thought the voice of angels
From heav'n in answer rang.
"Jerusalem! Jerusalem!
Lift up your gates and sing,
Hosanna in the highest!
Hosanna to your King!"
And then methought my dream was chang'd,
The house no longer rang,
Hush'd were the glad hosannas
My wife and children sang.
The house grew dark with mystery,
The morn was cold and chill,
As the shadow of death passed
Across our homely sill.
My wife and I laid side by side
--God above, was it much to ask?
Our luck ran out and fate conspired
to separate us at the last.
I died for duty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When truth died and was lain
In an adjoining room.
You questioned softly why I failed?
"For duty," I replied.
"And I for truth—-the two are one;
We brethren are," you said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our fame.
The final victim's always truth.
My nightmare, friends, is not o'er.
Yet still the hymn's words soothe,
"Hosanna forevermore."
Christopher T. George
(After Robert Frost, Frank Weatherly, and Emily Dickinson) |
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