Short Poems

No wet to thole, I shut each hole,
And wrought my heel-seat under;
My forepart's wide — round toe, and side,
And lin'd smooth to a wonder.
I've not been slack to be exact
Tho they're not cast at Carron;
So hope the boots your orders suits
To fit the Lord Chief B — — n .

In the palace at dusk the blinds of pearl are unfurled,
Fireflies flit around, then come to rest
Throughout the long night I sew thin silken garments
When will my thoughts of you ever come to an end?

The first time I set eyes on you,
I thought our hearts would be as one
I fed my thread into a broken loom
It would not make a bolt of cloth.

The holy mirror,
repolished, is also pure —
blossoms of snow.

Spring
gradually taking form —
moon and plum blossoms.

Let's go
snow viewing
until we tumble over!

Withering winds —
the face of a man
pained by swollen cheeks.

As dew-drops freeze
Green grass wilts
Gentlemen do not understand this,
Yet are said to be wise
Let me ride on a cloud
To visit the immortals.

Face aflower and soul aflame,
Into my darkness she dancing came,
And my heart cried out and my body yearned,
And the whole world bourgeoned, and danced, and burned,
And I saw white limbs of the Morning stir,
As the darkness flowered and flamed with her.

Work is devout, and service is divine.
Who stoops to scrub a floor
May worship more
Than he who kneels before a holy shrine;
Who crushes stubborn ore
More worthily adore
Than he who crushes sacramental wine.