Short Poems

pole your three winged galleons
ride your thousand-mile stallions
you still won't reach my home
it's called the darkest wild
cliff cave deep in the mountains
clouds and thunder come down all day
I'm not Master Confucius
I have nothing to offer others

His friends he loved. His direst earthly foes—
Cats—I believe he did but feign to hate.
My hand will miss the insinuated nose,
Mine eyes the tail that wagg'd contempt at Fate.

Even I who have no sweetheart
Rejoice at the change of garments.

Morning sun shines on silk coin windows,
A flickering breeze sways gossamer silk.
Flirting smiles dimple with two melons,
Lovely eyes beam beneath twin moths.

the circus gone—
it has become a town
of autumn wind

A fancy teases my brain:
From the North Star the Surveyor drops his plumb-line,
It unravels down to the Earth, and beyond the Earth through the spacious gulfs beneath. . . .
He measures the heights and depths of the heavens:
Who shall measure the width?

A yellow-coated pomegranate, figs like lizards' necks,
a handful of half-rosy part-ripe grapes,
a quince all delicate-downed and fragrant-fleeced,
a walnut winking out from its green shell,
a cucumber with the bloom on it pouting from its leaf-bed,
and a ripe gold-coated olive—dedicated
to Priapus friend of travellers, by Lamon the gardener,
begging strength for his limbs and his trees.

The tragic bard, a goat his humble prize,
Bade satyrs naked and uncouth arise;
His muse severe, secure, and undismay'd,
The rustic joke in solemn strain convey'd,
For novelty alone he knew could charm
A lawless crowd, with wine and feasting warm.

Æternall love! what 'tis to love thee well,
None, but himselfe, who feeles it, none can tell.
But oh, what to be lov'd of thee as well,
None, not himselfe, who feeles it, none can tell.

Steer, bold mariner, on! albeit witlings deride thee,
And the steersman drop idly his hand at the helm.
Ever and ever to westward! there must the coast be discovered,
If it but lie distinct, luminous lie in thy mind.
Trust to the God that leads thee, and follow the sea that is silent;
Did it not yet exist, now would it rise from the flood.
Nature with Genius stands united in league everlasting;
What is promised by one, surely the other performs.