Short Poems

LORD H EYGATE had a troubled face,
His furniture was commonplace—
The sort of Peer who well might pass
For someone of the middle class.
I do not think you want to hear
About this unimportant Peer.

Of three in One and One in three
My narrow mind would doubting be
Till Beauty, Grace and Kindness met
And all at once were Juliet.

Here sleeps the valiant Timocritus free from life's sorrows and cares;
Ares spares not the brave, only the coward he spares.

Breathless as the blue above thee
Where a pausing vapor lies;
Here, the hearts on earth that love thee.
There, the souls in Paradise—
Host for host expectant of thee!
Who shall win the prize?

At the gate you still hold me by the robe,
And ask me when I shall come back from the west.
I will return some day, wearing, perhaps, a seal of gold.
And you will not imitate the wife of Su Chin,
Who came not down from her loom.

One good nocturne
Deserves another,
Said George Sand
When she met Chopin.

Black luggie, lammer bead,
Rowan-tree, and red thread,
Put the witches to their speed.

Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clement's;
You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St. Martin's;
When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey;
When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch;
When will that be? say the bells of Stepney;
I do not know, says the great bell of Bow.
Here comes a candle to light you to bed,
And here comes a chopper to chop off your head.

Cold winds rise from the edge of heaven
True Gentleman how fares your thought
wild geese what hour is your arrival
river and lake swell with autumn waters
literature is adverse to good fortune
marsh trolls relish the passerby
you ought to share a word with the slandered spirit
hurl a poem to him in the Mi-lo River

A LADY there was of Antigua,
Who said to her spouse, “What a pig you are!”
He answered, “My queen,
—Is it manners you mean,
Or do you refer to my figure?”