Short Poems

Once only did the Angel stir
The pool, whereat She paused in pain;
Another step outspeeded her;
The waters ne'er have moved again.

Cold, clear, and blue, the morning heaven
Expands its arch on high;
Cold, clear, and blue, Lake Werna's water
Reflects that winter's sky.
The moon has set, but Venus shines
Silent, silvery star, A

What one art thou, thus in torn weed yclad?
‘Virtue, in price whom ancient sages had.’
Why poorly 'rayed? ‘For fading goods past care.’
Why double-faced? ‘I mark each fortune's fare.’
This bridle, what? ‘Mind's rages to restrain.’
Tools why bear you? ‘I love to take great pain.’
Why wings? ‘I teach above the stars to fly.’
Why tread you death? ‘I only cannot die.’

Old Age is not a friend I wish to meet;
And if some day to see me he should come,
I'd lock the door as he walk'd up the street,
And cry, “Most honour'd sir! I'm not at home!”

Let not false arguments thy reason blind,
For evil converse taints the virtuous mind.

I am not in court for any assault,
Or poisoning, or any such things.
I am here about my three she-goats;
I can prove my neighbour stole them.
Now I know these walls mostly ring
With rhetoric about the Punic Wars,
Perjuries and plots. Still I hope
You will soon get to my three she-goats.

The Fairies dance the livelong night
Across the moonlit hill;
The moonbeams dance along the lake;
The western wind is still.
The waters make a little sound
More sweet than music far—
Oh, let me fly across the world
To where the Fairies are!

Moses supposes his toeses are roses,
But Moses supposes erroneously;
For nobody's toeses are posies of roses
As Moses supposes his toeses to be.

A FIGURE sat within the chair
Which was not previously there;
A voice spoke in the darkness then
More subtly than the voice of men:
The message in the ear it spell'd
Was one great secret long withheld,
And while I live, or when I die,
O Grave! where is thy mystery?

Heere couered lies with earth, without a tombe,
Whose onyle praise is, that he died at Rome.