Short Poems

An easie thing to keepe of Death;
It is but keeping one in breath.

Then it was I knew the sorrow of love:
When first I saw your face at my breast in the dawn,
Not exaltation, not pride, not compassion,
But sorrow infinite, aching sorrow filled me
As I laid back the hair from your brow
And looked at your eyelids' heaviness.

Whenever I meet a handsome man
I have an irresistible impulse
To look at the nearest mirror.
The most satisfying form of art

A diller, a dollar,
A ten o'clock scholar,
What makes you come so soon?
You used to come at ten o'clock
But now you come at noon.

Though misfortunes my footsteps may ever attend
I hope I shall never have need of a Freind
as an innocent Heart I will ever preserve
and will never from Virtue's dear boundaries swerve.

Ding dong bell! Pussy's in the well!
Who put her in? Little Tommy Lin.
Who pulled her out? Little Tommy Stout.
What a naughty boy was that
To drown poor pussy-cat,
Who ne'er did any harm,
But killed all the mice in father's barn.

Mark the day white, on which the Fates have smiled:
Eugenio and Egeria have a child.
On whom abundant grace kind Jove imparts
If she but copy either parent's parts.
Then, Muses! long devoted to her race,
Grant her Egeria's virtues and her face;
Nor stop your bounty there, but add to it
Eugenio's learning and Eugenio's wit.

First, April, she with mellow showers
Opens the way for early flowers;
Then after her comes smiling May,
In a more rich and sweet array;
Next enters June, and brings us more
Gems than those two that went before;
Then, lastly, July comes, and she
More wealth brings in than all those three.

Beneath this stone in hopes of Zion
Doth lie the landlord of the Lion;
His son keeps on the business still,
Resigned unto the heavenly will.

In former Times, when condescending Gods
Visited Mortals poor Abodes,
Tell me, my Muse, what Homage did they pay,
When they perceiv'd the Pow'r Divine?
What Incense did they offer at his Shrine?
What Gifts upon his Altar lay?