Short Poems

All ye that passe by this holy place,
Both spiritual and temporal of every degre,
Remember yourselfe well during time and space:
I was as ye are nowe, and as I ye shall be.
Wherfore I beseche you, of youre benignite,
For the love of Jesu and his mother Mare,
For my soule to say a Pater Noster and an Ave.

Soldierly at last, for the lines
Go marching on.
And happily may they rest beyond
Suspicion now, the incomprehensibles—
It was mere loveliness.
And loveliness?
Death has an understanding of it
Loyal to many flags.

The morning breezes sigh,
A single goose sails idly past
Across the cloudy sky.

Here lies a man who gazed in Beauty's eyes
And in his busy life had much to do.
He does not ask the tribute of your sighs
But hands his work, unfinished, on to you.

Off to the cherry-flow'rs! the day
Was fix'd;—and what, though it be cloudy?

Swift is't in pace, light poiz'd, to look in clear,
And quick in boiling (which esteemed were)
Such qualities, as rightly understood
Withouten these no water could be good.

Dear , do not your fair beauty wrong
In thinking still you are too young.
The rose and lilies in your cheek
Flourish, and no more ripening seek.
Your cherry lip, red, soft, and sweet,
Proclaims such fruit for taste is meet;
Then lose no time, for love hath wings,
And flies away from aged things.

The die is cast, come weal, come woe,
Two lives are joined together,
For better or for worse, the link
Which naught but death can sever.
The die is cast, come grief, come joy,
Come richer, or come poorer,
If love but binds the mystic tie,
Blest is the bridal hour.

Of one stable was is halle,
Is kenestol on occe stalle
Sente Marie is burnes alle.

You little sparrows left without
A mother, come and play with me.