Short Poems

Brigham Young
Was exceptionally highly strung.
He always used a chopper
When a Mormon said anything improper.

Mr. H. G. Wells
Was composed of cells.
He thought the human race
Was a perfect disgrace.

When Torquemada
Found a cat in the larder
He relinquished it without a qualm
To the Secular Arm.

I believe it was admitted by Scott
That some of his novels were rot.
How different was he from Lytton,
Who admired everything he had written!

Of course Ranjitsinhji
Was quite right not to be stingy,
But I never could quite see the relevance
Of his keeping nine thousand elephants.

Geoffrey Chaucer
Took a bath (in a saucer)
In consequence of certain hints
Dropped by the Black Prince.

On one occasion when Browning
Saved a débutante from drowning
She inquired faintly what he meant
By that stuff about good news from Ghent.

There is no prayer for me
Under the night.
The stars touch against me,
Tenderly;
I lift my arms into the night.
But nothing comes to fill my empty arms.

I must stand on tiptoe to reach your lips;
I must stand on tiptoe in my soul to reach you,
To reach the height of my own love—
It is what I want, to have you tall!

Next to the Thunderer let Anna stand,
In piety supreme as in command;
Fam'd for victorious arms and generous aid,
Young Austria's refuge and fierce Bourbon's dread.
Titanian leagues in vain shall brave the Rhine,
When to the Eagle you the thunder join.