Short Poems

Aim at achieving the good, my friend, but, having achieved it,
Be content; and abstain, prithee, from doing it all.
True zeal only requires that what there is is ideal,
Spurious zeal demands that an ideal be there.

Truth we both of us seek; thou in life's strenuous action,
I in the heart, and so each his desire attains.
From without the eye, if healthy, regards the Creator,
And beholds within, as in a mirror, the heart.

Wouldst thou attain, my friend, to the highest circles of wisdom?
Venture on every risk; prudence can whisper aside:
The short-sighted observe the receding river bank only,
Never the one that will lie presently under thy feet.

Strict as my conscience itself, thou noticest all mine offences:
Therefore I love thee as well as—mine own conscience, at least.

Wouldst thou know thyself then mark the methods of others.
Others to understand, search thine own innermost heart.

Mystery ever is that which lies broad open to all men;
Circles you round and round, yet not a body observes.

the mountain cherry tree
shedding its blossoms—in the brook

Mountains are steadfast,
but waters are not so.
Since they flow day and night,
can there be old waters?
Great heroes are like waters,
once gone, they never return.

Jesus' mother never had no man.
God came to her one day an' said,
“Mary, chile, kiss ma han'.”

The bush with gaudy purple flowers is in the back yard—
seen only by its mistress, cats, and the white butterflies.