Might as well Kipling-poast while I wait around.
The Last Department
Twelve hundred million men are spread
About this Earth, and I and You
Wonder, when You and I are dead,
"What will those luckless millions do?"
"None whole or clean," we cry, "or free from stain
Of favour." Wait awhile, till we attain
The Last Department where nor fraud nor fools,
Nor grade nor greed, shall trouble us again.
Fear, Favour, or Affection–what are these
To the grim Head who claims our services?
I never knew a wife or interest yet
Delay that pukka step, miscalled "decease";
When leave, long overdue, none can deny;
When idleness of all Eternity
Becomes our furlough, and the marigold
Our thriftless, bullion-minting Treasury.
Transferred to the Eternal Settlement,
Each in his strait, wood-scantled office pent,
No longer Brown reverses Smith's appeals,
Or Jones records his Minute of Dissent.
And One, long since a pillar of the Court,
As mud between the beams thereof is wrought;
And One who wrote on phosphates for the crops
Is subject-matter of his own Report.
These be the glorious ends whereto we pass–
Let Him who Is, go call on Him who Was;
And He shall see the mallie steals the slab
For currie-grinder, and for goats the grass.
A breath of wind, a Border bullet's flight,
A draught of water, or a horse's fright–
The droning of the fat Sheristadar
Ceases, the punkah stops, and falls the night
For you or Me. Do those who live decline
The step that offers, or their work resign?
Trust me, To-day's Most Indispensables,
Five hundred men can take your place or mine.
Stories4Satoshis / Stories for Satoshis
npub1d7…t4taq
2024-10-19 14:51:58 UTC
Author Public Key
npub1d7qdx7n8kum0nyyk8l4gxwqwfq69fl5khl54lxq5dzc2nwfwd7tsut4taqSeen on
wss://nos.lolPublished at
2024-10-19 14:51:58 UTCEvent JSON
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"content": "Might as well Kipling-poast while I wait around.\n\nThe Last Department\n\nTwelve hundred million men are spread\n About this Earth, and I and You\n Wonder, when You and I are dead,\n \"What will those luckless millions do?\"\n\n\"None whole or clean,\" we cry, \"or free from stain\nOf favour.\" Wait awhile, till we attain\n The Last Department where nor fraud nor fools,\nNor grade nor greed, shall trouble us again.\n\nFear, Favour, or Affection–what are these\nTo the grim Head who claims our services?\n I never knew a wife or interest yet\nDelay that pukka step, miscalled \"decease\";\n\nWhen leave, long overdue, none can deny;\nWhen idleness of all Eternity\n Becomes our furlough, and the marigold\nOur thriftless, bullion-minting Treasury.\n\nTransferred to the Eternal Settlement,\nEach in his strait, wood-scantled office pent,\n No longer Brown reverses Smith's appeals,\nOr Jones records his Minute of Dissent.\n\nAnd One, long since a pillar of the Court,\nAs mud between the beams thereof is wrought;\n And One who wrote on phosphates for the crops\nIs subject-matter of his own Report.\n\nThese be the glorious ends whereto we pass–\nLet Him who Is, go call on Him who Was;\n And He shall see the mallie steals the slab\nFor currie-grinder, and for goats the grass.\n\nA breath of wind, a Border bullet's flight,\nA draught of water, or a horse's fright–\n The droning of the fat Sheristadar\nCeases, the punkah stops, and falls the night\n\nFor you or Me. Do those who live decline\nThe step that offers, or their work resign?\n Trust me, To-day's Most Indispensables,\nFive hundred men can take your place or mine.",
"sig": "fd5ecd26ede343037a2192db4cf7b902f416ed4f6447c0688dd078b65e742e379f297e3c7e14013de6922bbf04dbf70bcb356d6de4d6553ba2ee9b51ba275ecd"
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