Short Poems

‘Tell me, good dog, whose tomb you guard so well.’
‘The Cynic's.’ ‘True; but who that Cynic tell.’
‘Diogenes, of fair Sinope's race.’
‘What? He that in a tub was wont to dwell?’
‘Yes: but the stars are now his dwelling-place.’

Father Abraham sittin' down side ob de Holy Lam'.

'Way up on-a de mountain top,
My Lord he spoke an' de chariot stop.

Goodbye mother an' fare you well,
Meet me aroun' dat th'one ob God.

Sit down, servant, sit down!
Sit down an' rest a little while
(I) Know you mighty tired, so sit down!

Know you shoutin' happy, so sit down!

My dear little crane
Is the glory of my goodly home.
I have not found so good a friend.
Though he is a servant he is a gentleman.

When the rain ceases,
The white water flowers of Ch'ang Lo stroll together at sunset
In the City by the River.
The young girls are no longer confined
In the gold pavilions,
But may gaze at the green water
Whirling under the bridge of many turnings.
——T AI T A-MIEN , 18th Century

When I come and look
At the ancient Capital
Of the God of Iso,
The flowers are in bloom
That once served for garlands.

My wanton, weepe no more
The losing of your cherries;
Those, and farre sweeter berries,
Your sister, in good store,
Hath spred on lips and face:
Be glad, kisse but with me, and hold your peace.

does it sense
anything that steals by?
snow on the bamboos

From whose large mouth for verse all that since live
Drew water, and grew bolder to derive,
Into thinne shallow rivers his deepe floods:
Richly Luxuriant in one mans goods.

Corpse, clad with carefulness;
Heart, heaped with heaviness;
Purse, poor and penniless;
Back, bare in bitterness;
Lips, laid with loathsomeness;
Oh, get my grave in readiness;
Fain would I die to end this stress,