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قراءة كتاب The Story of an Ostrich: An Allegory and Humorous Satire in Rhyme.
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The Story of an Ostrich: An Allegory and Humorous Satire in Rhyme.
an Ostrich
BY
JUDD ISAACS, Formerly Editor of the Yankee Blade, New England Magazine, Nickell Magazine.
Than that of some creatures of far frailer figure,
With two legs complete, and a speed very fleet,
Once caught a short peep at his feet, in the street.
He failed to take note that upon each were notated
Scales, warts and abrasions, nails, ossification,
Which proved them a part of his own corporation.
They came along, too, and he asked what it meant?
Though he walked through the town, or he stalked o'er the heath
He observed they remained, always, right underneath.
He thrust out his bust and inside he just cussed,
When they strode along and kept kicking up dust;
But in vain did he feign to abstain from disdain,
As he dined with the twain in the wind and the rain;
Evincing an evident, ill-concealed chagrin.
The ostrich, at last, got in very bad humor;
And, failing to recognise them as his own,
Made a peck with his beak that went clear to the bone,
Which gave all his nerves such a terrible thrill,
He quick pecked another hard peck with his bill;
With each peck a quiver, his frame shook with shivers,
As if his limp liver were pierced with slim slivers,—
Till both his great feet with his heart's blood were red,
Oozing out on the ground, as he'd painfully tread.
Debased his escheat and his comfort defeated!
As a matter of fact, he never had noticed
How he'd got around; and he'd not the remotest
Idea that his own high position depended
On two ugly feet that his good taste offended.
The Undertone
I.
The thoughtful student of modern, social, and economic conditions, who reads the accompanying rhymed satire, "The Story of an Ostrich," will discover in it much more than the mere words would ordinarily convey, and will read into it such measure of philosophy as his own experience and critical study of the problem of human existence may have prepared him for.
When, ten thousand years ago, the owl sat in the light of the moon and unknown deities spat wisdom into the philosophies of Hermes and Zoroaster and their more or less erudite predecessors, the earliest gods, with their bird-like heads and male bodies, were yet vehicles of truth, elevating the frail stock of humanity over which they threw their benign influences.
Since recorded history began, the world has had many gods, and many books concerning them have been written, determining by much labor of the head which should be worshiped, rather than impressing the heart with sincere desire to travel in divinely appointed ways. As "the mere grasses," priests and kings have trampled upon the masses—have been at once their masters, their deities and interpreters of deity. Their rank materialism has always complacently overrated itself, while the world, which labors and runs, has ever been chained to and crushed beneath it. Man knew not the power of God within himself.
His mental inertia prevented his knowing
That all lofty heads must have good understanding,
To retain, out of hand, a position commanding;
So, he would still peck, though it hurt, and despise them,
And swear, by the gods, he would not recognise them!
Mid lowly conditions, lay'ng no claim to beauty
Of pinion, or plume, yet upholding together
The framework of bone, with its blood, flesh and feather,—
The which makes an ostrich of wit and assurance,—
At last reached the limit of patient endurance.
And punched his head hard,—to use a slang term;
So forceful and rapid they got in their work,
The ostrich, in agony, let out a "quirk!"
As, weakened by suff'ring, disheartened by pain,
A hint of the truth dawned upon his dull brain.
The ostrich, not yet half acquainted, resented
The silent upheaval, he'd felt, of the masses,
He'd, heretofore, held to be as the mere grasses;
They having objected, he'd make no contention,
Though he wondered how he'd interpose intervention
Enough