God in His own right hand doth take each day-
Each sun-filled day-each rare and radiant night,
And dropp it softly on the earth and say:
'Touch earth with heaven's own beauty and delight.'
La sottise, l'erreur, le péché, la lésine,
Occupent nos esprits et travaillent nos corps,
Et nous alimentons nos aimables remords,
Comme les mendiants nourrissent leur vermine.
The bees, Sir, wont sting you; then why this ado?
And for honey—they'll never make honey of you—
They're too wise to select such a flavourless fellow;
At least—if intent upon Attica mella.
Nature, it seems is the popular name
for milliards and milliards and milliards
of particles playing their infinite game
of billiards and billiards and billiards.
It’s as pleasing to me as, they say,
that golden apple was to the swift girl,
that loosed her belt, too long tied.
When with me the play she goes,
I much admire the buds and bows
And all that on Kate’s headgear grows.
But when some other night I see
That hat between the stage and me,
My taste and Kate’s do not agree.
Assassins find accomplices. Man's merit
Has found him three, the hawk, the hound, the ferret.
The soft asphaltum in the sun;
Betrays a tendency to run;
Whereas the dog that takes his way
Across its course concludes to stay.
Lo! the wild rabbit, happy in the pride
Of qualities to meaner beasts denied,
Surveys the ass with reverence and fear,
Adoring his superior length of ear,
And says: 'No living creature, lean or fat,
But wishes in his heart to be like That!'
AS I watch'd the ploughman ploughing,
Or the sower sowing in the fields--or the harvester harvesting,
I saw there too, O life and death, your analogies:
(Life, life is the tillage, and Death is the harvest according.)
