Short Poems

I can’t stand Willy Wet-Leg,
Can’t stand him at any price.
He’s resigned, and when you hit him
he lets you hit him twice.

Willst du Weiser sein im Leben,
Lerne früh dein Inneres deuten,
Biet es feil nicht allen Leuten -
Laß sie kommen, laß sie geben -
Aber dann mit vollen Händen
Magst auch du, was dein, verschwenden.

In February, light, fine willow catkins
play with people's clothes in spring breeze;
they are heartless creatures,
flying south one moment, then north again.

A child should always say what's true
And speak when he is spoken to,
And behave mannerly at table;
At least as far as he is able.

Your whitelight flashes the frost to-night
Moon of the purple and silent west.
Remember me one of your lovers of dreams.

Your white shoulders
I remember
And your shrug of laughter.

Low laughter
Shaken slow
From your white shoulders.

When soft winds and sunny skies
With the green earth harmonize,
And the young and dewy dawn,
Bold as an unhunted fawn,
Up the windless heaven is gone,--
Laugh—for ambushed in the day,--
Clouds and whirlwinds watch their prey.

Why did baby die,
Making Father sigh,
Mother cry?
Flowers, that bloom to die,
Make no reply
Of ‘why?’
But bow and die.

Where innocent bright-eyed daisies are,
With blades of grass between,
Each daisy stands up like a star
Out of a sky of green.

When the cows come home the milk is coming,
Honey's made while the bees are humming;
Duck and drake on the rushy lake,
And the deer live safe in the breezy brake;
And timid, funny, brisk little bunny,
Winks his nose and sits all sunny.