Short Poems

Then, when I'd seen them leave the bay
For those strange countries far away,
If on the sea I turned my back
And faced the dizzy mountain track,
I'd see a rather little hill,
And then an elm tree smaller still,
And last, and furthest off of all,
A tiny speck—the garden wall.

That he was born it cannot be denied,
He ate, drank, slept, talk'd politics, and died.

Tell me not in joyous numbers
We can make our lives sublime
By—well, at least, not by
Dabbling much in rhyme.

Tagus, farewell, that westward with thy streams
Turns up the grains of gold already tried;
With spur and sail for I go seek the Thames,
Gainward the sun that showeth her wealthy pride,
And to the town that Brutus sought by dreams
Like bended moon doth lend her lusty side.
My King, my country, alone for whom I live,
Of mighty love the wings for this me give.

Sweet, winsome May, coy, pensive fay,
Comes garlanded with lily-bells,
And apple blooms shed incense through the bow'r,
To be her dow'r;
While through the leafy dells
A wondrous concert swells
To welcome May, the dainty fay.

The sun may set and rise:
But we contrariwise
Sleep after our short light
One everlasting night.

Stay yet, pale flower, though coming storms will tear thee,
My soul grows darker, and I cannot spare thee.

The Smile of the Goat has a meaning that few
Will mistake, and explains in a measure
The Censor attending a risqué Revue
And combining Stern Duty with pleasure.

Since we parted yester eve,
I do love thee, love, believe,
Twelve times dearer, twelve hours longer,—
One dream deeper, one night stronger,
One sun surer,—thus much more
Than I loved thee, love, before.

See here, nice Death, to please his palate
Takes a young lettuce for a sallet.