He said simply they’d always be with us,
Astounding one with such nerve, cold foresight
-All generated in jig-time-no fuss,
He had sized our worlds up, had them down pat,
Left no fly in the ointment to discuss;
Those who’d have given him his coat and hat
”And the high road to Ethiopia,
Nicaragua, any other planet-
Were quite pished on, made easy joke of
At that very fantastical banquet;
Now there are those but remembering the feet,
The unguents, recalling tears, silken hair,
The rub of ceremony-not the meet
And proper handling of an old despair.
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
War abroad. Socialists on the rise. AI upending human life. Endless uproar online. The modern attention economy doesn’t want readers — it wants users enslaved to the tyranny of the present.
First Things is the antidote: literary excellence, timeless truths, and a fixed point of reference in a culture that has lost its bearings.
But we can’t do it without readers like you.
Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.
Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.
Make your Fall Campaign gift now using the button below.
If you have any questions or would like more information, please contact Giovanni Del Piero, Director of the Editor’s Circle, at gdelpiero@firstthings.com or 212-627-1985.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
The Church in the Age of Therapy
In 1966, Philip Rieff wrote in The Triumph of the Therapeutic that “Religious man was born to…
Canada’s Deadliest Blind Spot
On September 20, the Daily Mail ran a story with the provocative headline, “Our 83-year-old Christian grandmother…
The Faithful Joy of Dolly Parton and Fulton Sheen
Dolly Parton and Fulton Sheen seem to have had little in common. She favored rhinestones; he wore…
