Short Poems

Long with us, now she leaves us; she has rest
Beneath our sacred sod:
A woman vowed to Good, whom all attest,
The daylight gift of God.

Angels at the foot,
And Angels at the head,
And like a curly little lamb
My pretty babe in bed.

Anthea laugh'd, and, fearing lest excess
Might stretch the cords of civil comeliness
She with a dainty blush rebuked her face,
And call'd each line back to his rule and space.

HERE a pretty baby lies
Sung asleep with lullabies:
Pray be silent and not stir
Th' easy earth that covers her.

Quando Deus formou o mundo,
Pra castigo de infiéis:
Deu ao Egito gafanhotos,
Ao Brasil deu bacharéis.

Any soul that drank the nectar of your passion was lifted.
From that water of life he is in a state of elation.
Death came, smelled me, and sensed your fragrance instead.
From then on, death lost all hope of me.

Any lifetime that is spent without seeing the master
Is either death in disguise or a deep sleep.
The water that pollutes you is poison;
The poison that purifies you is water.

If in his study he hath so much care
To hang all old strange things, let his wife beware.

The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.

'A genuine anteater,'
The pet man told my dad.
Turned out, it was an aunt eater,
And now my uncle's mad!