Short Poems

Unrisen splendour of the brightest sun,
To rise upon our darkness, if the star
Now beckoning thee out of thy misty throne
Could thaw the clouds which wage an obscure war
With thy young brightness!

Here first the duties of to-day, the lessons of the concrete,
Wealth, order, travel, shelter, products, plenty;
As of the building of some varied, vast, perpetual edifice,
Whence to arise inevitable in time, the towering roofs, the lamps,
The solid-planted spires tall shooting to the stars.

Ever the undiscouraged, resolute, struggling soul of man;
(Have former armies fail'd? then we send fresh armies—and fresh again;)
Ever the grappled mystery of all earth's ages old or new;
Ever the eager eyes, hurrahs, the welcome-clapping hands, the loud applause;
Ever the soul dissatisfied, curious, unconvinced at last;
Struggling to-day the same—battling the same.

Ye men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering
'Gainst poor Excisemen? give the cause a hearing:
What are your landlords' rent-rolls? taxing ledgers:
What premiers, what? even Monarchs' mighty gaigers:
Nay, what are priests? those seeming godly wisemen:
What are they, pray? but spiritual Excisemen.

We grant they're thine, those beauties all,
So lovely in our eye:
Keep them, thou eunuch, C——ss,
For others to enjoy!

Cease, ye prudes, your envious railing,
Lovely Burns has charms—confess;
True it is, she had one failing,
Had ae woman ever less?

So few rays
of morning sun
filter through the branches,
how cool it is
deep within the bamboo!

A rainy night
when insects in the garden
have stopped their singing—
and now from the wall,
a cricket's voice!

Plum flowers
blooming crimson
in the twilight,
willows swaying
as the spring rain falls

Late at night
looking out from the Uji landing,
the river runs
with a clear sound,
the moon hazes over