24 April 2011

Dead Poets Part Two: (I hope) The Dead Are Disinclined To Sue


The Hand That Signed the Paper

The hand that signed the paper felled a city;
Five sovereign fingers taxed the breath,
Doubled the globe of dead and halved a country;
These five kings did a king to death.

The mighty hand leads to a sloping shoulder,
The finger joints are cramped with chalk;
A goose's quill has put an end to murder
That put an end to talk.

The hand that signed the treaty bred a fever,
And famine grew, and locusts came;
Great is the hand that holds dominion over
Man by a scribbled name.

The five kings count the dead but do not soften
The crusted wound nor pat the brow;
A hand rules pity as a hand rules heaven;
Hands have no tears to flow.

By Dylan Thomas

Dylan Thomas is another poet whose verse goes well with whiskey, as it may have been well whiskey that versed the well (at times, anyway).  If you are keeping track, this makes two poets, with at least a couple left to go in my educational series tentatively titled, “It’s not plagiarism, it’s cultural history,” proudly sponsored by the hope that I do not get sued.  

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