Tuesday, April 15, 2008

CM PRESS # 337


    Evolution

      When you were a tadpole and I was a fish
      In the Paleozoic time,
      And side by side on the ebbing tide
      We sprawled through the ooze and slime,
      Or skittered with many a caudal flip
      Through the depths of the Cambrian fen,
      My heart was rife with the joy of life,
      For I loved you even then.

      Mindless we lived and mindless we loved
      And mindless at last we died;
      And deep in the rift of the Caradoc drift
      We slumbered side by side.
      The world turned on in the lathe of time,
      The hot lands heaved amain,
      Till we caught our breath from the womb of death
      And crept into light again.

      We were amphibians, scaled and tailed,
      And drab as a dead man's hand;
      We coiled at ease 'neath the dripping trees
      Or trailed through the mud and sand.
      Croaking and blind, with our three-clawed feet
      Writing a language dumb,
      With never a spark in the empty dark
      To hint at a life to come.

      Yet happy we lived and happy we loved,
      And happy we died once more;
      Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold
      Of a Neocomian shore.
      The eons came and the eons fled
      And the sleep that wrapped us fast
      Was riven away in the newer day
      And the night of death was past.

      Then light and swift through the jungle trees
      We swung in our airy flights,
      Or breathed in the balms of the fronded palms
      In the hush of the moonless nights;
      And oh! what beautiful years were there
      When our hearts clung each to each;
      When life was filled and our senses thrilled
      In the first faint dawn of speech.

      Thus life by life and love by love
      We passed through the cycles strange,
      And breath by breath and death by death
      We followed the chain of change.
      Till there came a time in the law of life
      When over the nursing side
      The shadows broke and the soul awoke
      In a strange, dim dream of God.

      I was thewed like an Auroch bull
      And tusked like the great cave bear;
      And you, my sweet, from head to feet
      Were gowned in your glorious hair.
      Deep in the gloom of a fireless cave,
      When the night fell o'er the plain
      And the moon hung red o'er the river bed
      We mumbled the bones of the slain.

      I flaked a flint to a cutting edge
      And shaped it with brutish craft;
      I broke a shank from the woodland lank
      And fitted it, head and haft;
      Then I hid me close to the reedy tarn,
      Where the mammoth came to drink;
      Through the brawn and bone I drove the stone
      And slew him upon the brink.

      Loud I howled through the moonlit wastes,
      Loud answered our kith and kin;
      From west to east to the crimson feast
      The clan came tramping in.
      O'er joint and gristle and padded hoof
      We fought and clawed and tore,
      And cheek by jowl with many a growl
      We talked the marvel o'er.

      I carved that fight on a reindeer bone
      With rude and hairy hand;
      I pictured his fall on the cavern wall
      That men might understand.
      For we lived by blood and the right of might
      Ere human laws were drawn,
      And the age of sin did not begin
      Till our brutal tush was gone.

      And that was a million years ago
      In a time that no man knows;
      Yet here tonight in the mellow light
      We sit at Delmonico's.
      Your eyes are deep as the Devon springs,
      Your hair is dark as jet,
      Your years are few, your life is new,
      Your soul untried, and yet --

      Our trail is on the Kimmeridge clay
      And the scarp of the Purbeck flags;
      We have left our bones in the Bagshot stones
      And deep in the Coralline crags;
      Our love is old, our lives are old,
      And death shall come amain;
      Should it come today, what man may say
      We shall not live again?

      God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds
      And furnished them wings to fly;
      He sowed our spawn in the world's dim dawn,
      And I know that I shall not die,
      Though cities have sprung above the graves
      Where the crook-bone men make war
      And the oxwain creaks o'er the buried caves
      Where the mummied mammoths are.

      Then as we linger at luncheon here
      O'er many a dainty dish,
      Let us drink anew to the time when you
      Were a tadpole and I was a fish.

      Langdon Smith (1858-1908)
      # # #
      Thanks for reading the CM PRESS.


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