J. B. Priestley

“ We sailed on and on, Pierrot enlivening the dim hours with his strange Moon-songs, until at last he brought the boat to anchor in a little bay, and I landed, for the first time, at the pale country of the Moon.
‘You know,’ I said to Pierrot, as we wandered among the fantastic green shadows, ‘I have always longed to visit the Moon. The World is so dull, now, and the Moon always seemed to us such a mad and merry place.’
Pierrot stared—‘That is very strange! Up here we have always believed the reverse of that. And with good reason. Look for yourself!’ and he led me to the edge of the Moon ”

“ Where once were mighty poets, we have but known
A fugitive or sterile muse of late:
Across the sundering floods and leagues of foam,
On younger peoples in a riper clime
There falls no blight of song, but in full tide
Of passion, poets have blossomed year by year. ”

“ These men—heroes all of them—have dared to oppose out unjust rulers. They are lovers of Truth and Freedom, and so have become the victims of that vile tyranny which passes here for government. They are all—as you can see—noble and virtuous—the friends of society.’ So John James went on his way, grieved that the country should be so badly served.
Five years later, however, he found himself in the same city. Again, he saw a number of men being driven through the streets to the gaol. ”

“ One and all of these craftsmen, whom it is our business to study, tell us that we shall abjure the direct method only at our peril, that ultimately we shall come by more profit if we keep to the narrow road and leave the hedgerows and fields beyond innocent of our feet. ”

“ TO AN INDIFFERENT POET
YOU say the critic is a parasite:
’Tis not for such as you to scowl him down:
Only to point the way to Heart’s Delight
Is better than making roads to No Man’s Town.
R. L. STEVENSON
GOOD company for vagabonds or saints,
He wrought our joy out of his miseries;
Coloured our dreams with a child’s box of paints;
Conquered the world with that toy sword of his.
TO CERTAIN MODERN THEORISTS
HE who confounds the young gods with the brutes,
The origin, not end, his single care,
May he be given naught but earthy roots,
When next he calls for apple, plum or pear. ”

“ Foolish as dust, now mouth the reed-born song
At Clooth-na-bare and other windy places
Of three quaint syllables. It is a wrong
Not to be borne. What poet shall put the blame
Upon me that I now love best to sing
And dream my dream of him that had no name
Yet suddenly confronted the High King,
And cried: Sisters and brothers have I none,
Yet this man’s father is my father’s son?
A SONG: NOT IN THE COLLECTED
POEMS OF MR ALFRED NOYES
FAIRIES in the Forest, now the moon is mellow,
Dancing as they never danced through all the dreams of men ”

“ Summer said to herself: ‘Spring is very foolish to cry. Probably he does not like dancing. I will sing to him.’ She sang a beautiful sleepy song to him, but he never listened, being busy writing in his little note-book. ”

“ Wot’s the game, eh? Who are yer, eh? Wotcher doing ’ere?’ roared the policeman, his surprise making him more truculent than usual.
The strange being made no reply, but stared at the policeman, and then looked gravely at the curious, jostling crowd. ”

“ Autumn said: ‘There are many good men who do not like dancing. I will give him some of my wine.’ So she went to the Man and offered him her purple wine, but he merely said, ‘I do not drink wine,’ and resumed his writing. Then Autumn was very angry indeed, and told her big brother, Winter, all that had passed.
Winter was an enormous fellow, with a dreadful roar and howl, and every time he moved, snowflakes came whirling from his flowing robes. ‘Show me the fellow,’ he bellowed, puffing out his cheeks. Then he saw the Man who thought about Proteids, still sitting by the roadside. ”

“ There were the great gates, the towering palaces, the hanging gardens, as of old.
‘Well?’ and Marduk turned to her eagerly when she had gazed her fill, and wiped his forehead, for even he sweated from his vast labours.
Lena looked at him: ‘Yes, it’s very nice,’ she said.
HOW THE RATIONAL AMUSEMENTS OF THE GREAT ARE LIMITED BEFORE your time, two Mummers and a Unitarian were seated in a tavern playing cards, when a long, sallow-faced man, dressed in black, joined them and asked if he might have a game. ”

“ You may realise, gentlemen, how this tradition has been kept alive by men often sundered from one another by generations, if you allow me to bring before you several illuminating passages from diverse authors whose names are not pronounced here for the first time.... ”

“ There seemed to be a prodigious high tide.
‘Chentlemen,’ cried Roasbif, ‘gome whad may, our Embire is sdill, and and always vill be as long as de Bridish raze remains—mistress of—’
‘The Sea!’ shrieked a hundred voices. But it was too late. The grey flood swept through the building with appalling fury and engulfed them all.
DEATH AND THE FIDDLER THERE was once a Fiddler, who possessed a great and powerful secret. For he knew the tune, the only tune, to which Death would dance, and he could play it well. ”

“ Until one day, when the Council was discussing a new Byelaw to prevent Children from playing in the Public Parks, he was asked to speak, and, full of the dream, he burst into song, to the great astonishment of all present. He was then asked to resign, which he did.
And now, hardly anyone ever calls or even leaves a card.
THE HUMILIATING EXPERIENCE OF A FORGOTTEN GOD THE great Babylonian god, Marduk, revisiting the earth in the guise of a young man, fell in love with a girl in the silk Department of the Universal Stores. Her name was Lena.
‘O moon-faced one! O white flower of the world! ”

“ So the priest and the profiteer walked on, but when they had gone a little way, they turned round, and there was the fool sitting at her feet and looking into her eyes as she sang and combed her hair.
‘The fool has all the luck,’ they grumbled.
A MOVING STORY OF REAL LIFE THERE was at one time upon the earth a Mr S. L. Binkle, who always spoke of himself as a Business Expert. ”

“ When he returned to his lodging, he found he had one dream left, so he went to the policeman who always stood at the corner of the street, and said: ‘I cannot understand it. I have one dream left, yet I think I have given one to every person in the town, and to some I have given two.’
‘There is the Mayor—’ replied the policeman, doubtfully.
‘The very man! ”

“ It chanced that one afternoon when he was sitting in his office, there was some noisy music in the street near by, so Binkle put small pieces of cotton-wool in his ears. Far away, the gods laughed.
A few minutes later, the office door was flung open, and a red-faced man rushed in, crying: ‘You Mister Binkle?... come down to Balham ... next Tuesday evening ... talk on Business Efficiency ... no time to stop ... train ... ask for Mechanics Institute ... ”