Short Poems

There was a girl in our town,
Silk an' satin was her gown,
Silk an' satin, gold an' velvet,
Guess her name, three times I've telled it. (Ann.)

I send thee myrrh, not that thou mayest be
By it perfumed, but it perfumed by thee.

Sometimes at night I stand within a court
Where I have play'd by day;
And still the walls are vibrant with the sport,
And still the air is pulsing with the sway
Of agile limbs that now, their labours o'er,
To healthful sleep their strength resign—
But how of those who play'd with me langsyne,
And sleep for evermore?

There was an old woman and she lived in a shoe,
She had so many children, she didn't know what to do.
She crumm'd 'em some porridge without any bread
And she borrowed a beetle, and she knocked 'em all on the head.
Then out went the old woman to bespeak 'em a coffin
And when she came back she found' em all a-loffing.

Fate to beauty still must give
Shortened life and fugitive;
All that's noble, all that's fair
Suddenly to death repair.
Here a lovely woman lies,
Venus in her hair and eyes;
Since with these she must divide
Heaven's envy, here she died.

When such a Genius condescends to write,
It gives at once both Wonder and Delight:
So strong's the Thought, the Numbers so severe;
So few the Words, and yet the Sense so clear:
Each Verse some old Idea does renew,
And each Idea brings an Age in View.
In your Six Lines all Homer does appear,
Virgil's Æneis, and the present War.

My grandfather's man and me fell out,
How will we bring the matter about?
We'll bring it about as weel as we can,
And a' for the sake o' my grandfather's man.

Life is the desert, life the solitude;
Death joins us to the great majority:
'Tis to be born to Plato's and to Caesar;
'Tis to be great for ever;
'Tis pleasure, 'tis ambition, then, to die.

The American poet Lindsay
(A mercurial fellow)
Began his career
By codifying the ways in which a poet
Can get a free meal.
Here was a seer!
Here was a man with strong grasp of essentials!

A heart of sunshine, and a face
Of rosy bloom; a form of grace;
Unconscious beauty, wild and free
And pure in natural liberty!
'Tis Fancy's dream; but such as she
Should ev'ry lover's mistress be.