Short Poems

Vineger is no other I define,
Then the dead Corps, or carkase of the Wine.

Huncks ha's no money (he do's sweare, or say)
About him, when the Taverns shot's to pay.
If he ha's none in's pockets, trust me, Huncks
Ha's none at home, in Coffers, Desks, or Trunks.

Love love begets, then never be
Unsoft to him who's smooth to thee.
Tygers and Beares (I've heard some say)
For profer'd love will love repay:
None are so harsh, but if they find
Softnesse in others, will be kind;
Affection will affection move,
Then you must like, because I love.

There is a pain—so utter—
It swallows substance up—
Then covers the Abyss with Trance—
So Memory can step
Around—across—upon it—
As one within a Swoon—
Goes safely—where an open eye—
Would drop Him—Bone by Bone.

A mill-stone and the human heart are driven ever round;
If they have nothing else to grind, they must themselves be ground.

Now down among red lotus plunged,
Now out above the bright strand soaring:
Stands alone: the spread of plumage,
Fish-in-his-beak, on a floating log.

I must be rising and I must be going
On the roads of magic that stretch afar,
By the random rivers so finely flowing
And under the restless star.
I must be roving on the roads of glory,
So I'll up and shoe me with red-deer hide.
For youth must be learning the ancient story—
Let the wearied oldsters bide.

Saw ye the Forty-Second?
Saw ye them gaun awa'?
Saw ye the Forty-Second
Marching to the Broomielaw?
Some o' them had boots an' stockin's,
Some o' them had nane ava;
Some o' them had tartan plaidies,
Marching to the Broomielaw.

does a dustpan
share in the Buddha's nature?
blossoms' shade

Six days shalt thou labor and do all thou art able,
The seventh, holystone the deck and scrub the cable.