Victor Daley Quotes

The Missionary labours With zeal, and pious art,
And rice, and cabin biscuit, In hope to change his heart;And dear old British ladies The Lord would fain cajole,
And humbly crave that He will save This poor old savage soul.

Could the Resurrection be
I had wished it but for Thee
For though all things rose changed and new
Thou wouldst rise unchanged and true
And cash at once my I.O.U.

Must we all in grovel wallow Like to bisons in a bog —
Must we call him an Apollo If he is not quite a hog?

The narrow, thorny path he trod. "Enter into My joy," said God.
The sad ascetic shook his head; "I've lost all taste for joy," he said.

I'd sooner talk to a man than a woman any day. Ten minutes exhausts them.

Ah apple caused man's fall, as some believe; But that old Snake, malevolently wise,
A deadlier snare set when he left to Eve His tongue of honey and mesmeric eyes.

I make or mar. My daring hand
Explores the entrails of the land,
And finds, beneath a greasy hat,
An Austral Homer at Cow Flat.

There's rest and peace in plenty here, and eggs and milk to spare;
The scenery is calm and sane, and wholesome is the air;
The folk are kind, the cows behave like cousins unto me ...
But please the Lord, on Monday morn, I'm leaving Arcady.

When I hear a politician Speak of honours and position,
And the time to come when he will sit on high, Then I feel a sovran pity For this species of banditti,
Raising trouble while the golden time goes by.

O reader, deem me not a sham,
For I in purple earnest am!

Here I can sit at ease on days of rain,
And read my Rabelais and my Montaigne,
Self-centred as a solitary star
That has no satellites its peace to mar.
Society salutes me with salaam,
For I am single — thank the Lord I am!

I do not crave the boon Of Immortality;
I do not want the moon, Nor yet the rainbow's key.I do not yearn for wings, Or fins to swim the sea;
I merely want the things That are not good for me.

The parson said: "Your sinful Past Will make for you a fiery rod."
I smiled, and thought upon the vast Amused indifference of God.

A Book of Sermons underneath the Bough,
A Bag of Buns, some ginger-ale, and Thou Preaching beside me in the wilderness —
The wilderness were Paradise enow!

Other Bards I envy not —
Room there is for all, God wot —
All I ask is room for me
On the top branch of the tree.