Short Poems

Gray on gray post, this silent little bird
Swoops on its prey—prey neither seen nor heard!
A click of bill; a flicker; and, back again!
Sighs Nature an Alas? Or merely, Amen?

There was an Old Person of Cassel,
Whose nose finished off in a tassel;
But they call'd out, “Oh well! Don't it look like a bell!”
Which perplexed that Old Person of Cassel.

There was an Old Man of Cape Horn,
Who wished he had never been born;
So he sat on a chair, till he died of despair,
That dolorous Man of Cape Horn.

There was a Young Lady whose Nose
Continually prospers and grows;
When it grew out of sight,
She exclaimed in a fright,
"Oh! Farewell to the end of my Nose!'

Here lies John Trot the Friend of all mankind
He has not left one Enemy behind
Friends were quite hard to find old authors say
But now they stand in every bodies way

Ten thousand flakes about my windows blow,
Some falling and some rising, but all snow.
Scribblers and statesmen! are ye not just so?

A single rock from Cinnabar Hill
and glittering on it: mushrooms of five colors!
Eat them and you will grow wings.
Swallow them—they are good for your complexion.

A five-color robe of embroidered silk:
many flowers, and a few sparse branches.
Spring is here, and I'm afraid to put it on:
the butterflies might all land on me!

Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes;
O Death, It's my opinion,
Thou ne'er took such a bleth'ran b-tch,
Into thy dark dominion!

Sunlight streaming on Incense Stone kindles violet smoke;
far off I watch the waterfall plunge to the long river,
flying waters descending straight three thousand feet,
till I think the Milky Way has tumbled from the ninth height of Heaven.