Short Poems

I am brisk
As a bottle of whisk-
Ey and as nimble
As a milliner's thimble.

There in the fane a beauteous creature stands,
The first best work of the Creator's hands,
Whose slender limbs inadequately bear
A full-orbed bosom and a weight of care;
Whose teeth like pearls, whose lips like cherries, show,
And fawn-like eyes still tremble as they glow.

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross,
To see what Tommy can buy;
A penny white loaf, and a penny white cake,
And a two-penny apple pie.

I journeyed to the suburbs, and there I was told:
We toil for six days, on the seventh we must motor
To Hindhead, or Maidenhead.
If the weather is foul we stay at home and read the papers.

Restless he rolls about from whore to whore,
A merry monarch, scandalous and poor.

Seene? and yet hated thee? they did not see,
They saw Thee not, that saw and hated thee:
No, no, they saw thee not, o Life, o Love,
Who saw ought in thee, that their hate could move.

My heart, thinking
“How beautiful he is”
Is like a swift river
Which though one dams it and dams it,
Will still break through.

O boy cutting grass
On that hill,
Do not cut like that!
Just as it is
I want it to be grass for the honorable horse
Of my Lord who is going to deign to come.

O pine-tree standing
At the side of the stone house,
When I look at you,
It is like seeing face to face
The men of old time.

On the shore of Nawa
The smoke of the saltburners,
When evening comes,
Failing to get across,
Trails over the mountain.