Featured Poem: When Earth’s Last Picture is Painted by Rudyard Kipling

For our Featured Poem this week, we’re looking to what lies beneath as The Big Dig gets underway at Calderstones Park at our HQ in Liverpool. It’s the very first time the park has been opened for historical excavation, and we’re keeping our ears close to the ground – figuratively speaking – as for the next two weeks our volunteers will be taking up their trowels and hoping to discover some ancient artefacts that might give us an indication of the earliest settlers to the area.

Our team were so eager to get underway that the digging started earlier than expected at the end of last week – you can keep up to speed with all the latest developments over the next two weeks @CaldiesMansion on Twitter or by taking a read of The Big Dig blog: caldiesbigdig.org.uk

We might have chosen a piece from the ‘Earth poet’ William Wordsworth, but instead we’ve been inspired to whizz from the past right along into the future with this poem from Rudyard Kipling, which speaks rather grandly to the cycle of life we find ourselves a part of. We’ve also a feeling that our hardworking diggers will need their rest and a lie down (perhaps a little bit less than an ‘aeon’), so this will hopefully do the trick in providing something to relax with.

When Earth’s Last Picture is Painted

When Earth’s last picture is painted
And the tubes are twisted and dried
When the oldest colors have faded
And the youngest critic has died
We shall rest, and faith, we shall need it
Lie down for an aeon or two
‘Till the Master of all good workmen
Shall put us to work anew
And those that were good shall be happy
They’ll sit in a golden chair
They’ll splash at a ten league canvas
With brushes of comet’s hair
They’ll find real saints to draw from
Magdalene, Peter, and Paul
They’ll work for an age at a sitting
And never be tired at all.
And only the Master shall praise us.
And only the Master shall blame.
And no one will work for the money.
No one will work for the fame.
But each for the joy of the working,
And each, in his separate star,
Will draw the thing as he sees it.
For the God of things as they are!

Rudyard Kipling

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