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Blessèd was our first age and morning-time. Then were no waies tarren, ne
Blessèd was our first age and morning-time. Then were no waies tarren, ne no cars numberen, but each followed his owne playinge-busyness to go about singly or by large interspaces, for to leden his viage after his luste and layen under clene hedge.  Jangling there was not, nor the overtaking wheele, and all those now cruel clarions were full-hushed and full-still. Then nobile horses, lest they should make the chariots moveable to run by cause of this new feare, we did not press, and were apayed by sweete thankes of him that drave. There was not cursings ne adventure of death blinded bankes betweene, but good-fellowship of yoke-mates at ignorance equal, and a one pillar of dust covered all exodus.... But, see now how the blacke road hath strippen herself of hearte and beauty where the dumbe lampe of Tartarus winketh red, etc.
no cars numberen, but each followed his owne playinge-busyness to go about
singly or by large interspaces, for to leden his viage after his luste and
layen under clene hedge.  Jangling there was not, nor the overtaking wheele,
and all those now cruel clarions were full-hushed and full-still. Then
nobile horses, lest they should make the chariots moveable to run by
cause of this new feare, we did not press, and were apayed by
sweete thankes of him that drave. There was not cursings ne
adventure of death blinded bankes betweene, but good-fellowship
of yoke-mates at ignorance equal, and a one pillar of dust covered all
exodus.... But, see now how the blacke road hath strippen herself of
hearte and beauty where the dumbe lampe of Tartarus winketh red, etc.
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</div>


{{DEFAULTSORT:Consolations of Memory}}
{{DEFAULTSORT:Consolations of Memory}}
[[Category:Rudyard Kipling]]
[[Category:Rudyard Kipling]]

Latest revision as of 17:15, 11 April 2009

The Consolations of Memory
written by Rudyard Kipling
First published in Poems, 1886–1929 as part of The Muse Among the Motors. Link to further information



Done out of Boethius by Geoffrey Chaucer


Blessèd was our first age and morning-time. Then were no waies tarren, ne no cars numberen, but each followed his owne playinge-busyness to go about singly or by large interspaces, for to leden his viage after his luste and layen under clene hedge. Jangling there was not, nor the overtaking wheele, and all those now cruel clarions were full-hushed and full-still. Then nobile horses, lest they should make the chariots moveable to run by cause of this new feare, we did not press, and were apayed by sweete thankes of him that drave. There was not cursings ne adventure of death blinded bankes betweene, but good-fellowship of yoke-mates at ignorance equal, and a one pillar of dust covered all exodus.... But, see now how the blacke road hath strippen herself of hearte and beauty where the dumbe lampe of Tartarus winketh red, etc.