Fable Fun, sequel

Having a few spare minutes that aren't fit for any other employment, I thought I'd post my Fox and Crow rendition.

Lessons at Leisure

On a genial afternoon in May, in a majestically swaying young maple tree, there resided a nondescript crow, whose ordinary aspect rather marred the poetic atmosphere of the day. Surveying this tableau from the surrounding forest, a bright-eyed fox noted an object yet more out of place; a particle of cheese, residing temptingly in the bird’s mouth. The crow, proudly appraising her cheese, did not observe the fox sauntering forward with convincing nonchalance. Politely interrupting her reverie with an unobtrusive cough, he determined on introducing a topic of conversation.

“Madame,” quoth he, “You make too elegant a picture to refrain from commenting on. In this graceful young tree, surrounded by such gloriously animated countryside, your plumage glinting as though fashioned of onyx, your eyes holding a deep enigmatic luster…” He persisted with this device, fluently fabricating foolishness for the crow, who inflated noticeably with pride. “Indeed,” he continued, “the only element lacking in this paradisiacal scene, the one touch that can complete the atmosphere, is music: one delicate, satisfying melody, as only a magnificent bird such as you can bestow.”

It was enough. The gullible crow, in her ignorant vanity, could not resist; it was either sing or detonate with the conceited delight the fox’s lavish admiration had kindled. Although she tried her best, the one, brief note she gave was exceptionally sour, particularly because it quickly morphed into a scream of disappointment and indignation. Feigning still to be amiable, the fox, who had dexterously snapped up the rapidly descending cheese, intoned, “To be sure, there is nothing in existence as delicate or satisfying as a fragment of Gruyere, though never have I before known it to be defined as a melody.” Complacently chuckling, he strolled blithely away, leaving the crow to ponder this lesson in a rueful sense of injustice.

THE END

Fable Fun

As a writing exercise last month, I re-wrote the fable of the fox and the crow, originally by Aesop. When I commenced the assignment, bells began clamoring through my head, and stray fragments of poetry zipped across my mental field of vision. Delving into The Harp and Laurel Wreath, by Laura Berquist, a poetry book utilized frequently in my elementary years, I located the poem and laughed over its simple yet sophisticated phraseology. Having enjoyed it, I chose to post it as the poetry for this week, mayhap following it up with my own composition later on.

The sycophantic Fox and the gullible Raven

By Guy Wetmore Carryl

A raven sat upon a tree,
    And not a word he spoke, for
His beak contained a piece of Brie.
    Or, maybe it was Roquefort.
We'll make it any kind you please --
At all events it was a cheese.

Beneath the tree's umbrageous limb
    A hungry fox sat smiling;
He saw the raven watching him,
    And spoke in words beguiling:
"J'admire," said he, "ton beau plumage!"
(The which was simply persiflage.)

Two things there are, no doubt you know,
    To which a fox is used:
A rooster that is bound to crow,
    A crow that's bound to roost;
And whichsoever he espies
He tells the most unblushing lies.

"Sweet fowl," he said, "I understand
    You're more than merely natty;
I hear you sing to beat the band
    And Adelina Patti.
Pray render with your liquid tongue
A bit from Gotterdammerung."

This subtle speech was aimed to please
    The crow, and it succeeded;
He thought no bird in all the trees
    Could sing as well as he did.
In flattery completely doused,
He gave the "Jewel Song" from Faust.

But gravitation's law, of course,
    As Isaac Newton showed it,
Exerted on the cheese its force,
    And elsewhere soon bestowed it.
In fact, there is no need to tell
What happened when to earth it fell.

I blush to add that when the bird
    Took in the situation
He said one brief, emphatic word,
    Unfit for publication.
The fox was greatly startled, but
He only sighed and answered, "Tut."

The Moral is: A fox is bound
    To be a shameless sinner.
And also: When the cheese comes round
    You know it's after dinner.
But (what is only known to few)
The fox is after dinner, too.

Downtime entirely unintentional

Yes, I do have a halfway reasonable excuse for not posting as I said I would. Two, actually. Firstly, I was absent most of the weekends(s) and didn't have the time to post, and secondly I haven't been able to sit down and read St. Valentine and now the penitential poetry appropriate for the season.

I found this sample refreshing, as far as text-filled Kyries go. My psyche has undergone excessive stress recently on account of some appallingly horrific, flimsy, sodden lines interspersed through the Penitential Rite - and, as a matter of fact, the rest of the Liturgy. I assure you, however, that no such atrocities will confront you here

"...and you may safely read." - G.K.C.

Lent, 1869

By Richard Storrs Willis

I.

We like sheep have gone astray,
Kyrie eleison!
Each his own misguided way,
Kyrie eleison!
Wandering farther, day by day,
Kyrie eleison!

II.

Shepherd kind, oh! lead us back;
Christe eleison!
Wrest us from our dangerous track,
Christe eleison!
Lest the wolves thy flock attack;
Christe eleison!

III.

Ope for us again thy fold,
Kyrie eleison!
Night approaches, drear and cold;
Kyrie eleison!
Death, perchance, and woes untold;
Kyrie eleison!

Located on Catholic Poetry from various resources