Short Poems

Spend Harmless shade thy nightly Houres,
Selecting here, both Herbs, and Flowers;
Of which make Garlands here, and there,
To dress thy silent sepulchre.
Nor do thou feare the want of these,
In everlasting Properties.
Since we fresh strewings will bring hither,
Farre faster then the first can wither.

One of the five straight branches of my hand
Is lopt already; and the rest but stand
Expecting when to fall: which soon will be;
First dyes the Leafe, the Bough next, next the Tree.

Humptydump Dublin squeaks through his norse,
Humptydump Dublin hath a horriple vorse,
And, with all his kinks english
Plus his irishmanx brogues,
Humptydump Dublin's grandada of rogues.

Gone are my old familiar friends,
The men I used to know;
Yet still on Takasago beach
The same old pine trees grow,
That I knew long ago.

When the turuf is thy tour,
And thy put is thy bour,
Thy wel and thy white throte
Shulen wormes to note.
What helpet thee thenne
All the worilde wenne?

Thou That willed us naked-born,
Send us meat against the morn—
Got with right or got with wrong
So we fast not overlong.
Prosper “Snaffle, Spur and Spear!”
Grant us booty, horse and gear;
Save our necks from hempen thrall,
Bless the souls of them that fall.

Some sleep under the sighing pine,
And some sleep under the snow;
Some where flowers toss and twine,
And some where oceans flow.
Some where the glacier growls and grinds,
And some 'neath the cool, green sod;
But all sleep the same sleep, and waking finds
Each one in the arms of God.

I saw a dove fear-daunted,
By howling storm-blast driven;
Where waves their power vaunted,
From land it had been riven.
No cry nor moan it uttered,
I heard no plaint repeated;
In vain its pinions fluttered—
It had to sink, defeated.

Beneath a millionaire's house lies
Also the earthquake zone.

To us the insects seem so small,
Poor sparks of life that fly and crawl;
I wonder whether He also sees
Us mortal monarchs of the earth,
A tiny throng of little worth,
As lightly as we vision these!