Short Poems

Stop, Phoebus, stop thy swift career,
And know the charming Lesbia's here;
When she is absent we admire
The glories of thy sacred fire,
But when she comes, for shame, retire.

Inscrib'd to Nathaniel Oldham, Esq.

Thrice blissful wedlock, where a beauteous wife
Kindly contributes to a social life;
Where home is made delightful, where each friend
His option and her conduct must commend.
Such, Oldham, is thy choice, thy partner such.
She can't be prais'd, or thou approv'd too much.

At Dublin

So fine a genius and so great a hand,
Nature and art, Dubourg, are at a stand;
On thee they have bestow'd their richest store;
Can we expect, or can'st thou wish for more?

The Wonderful Blind Youth, Organist of St. Andrew's, Holborn

Why do mistaken mortals call thee blind?
Thine eyes are but inverted to thy mind;
There thou explorest ideas unconfin'd,
Whilst we, who look before, are dark behind.

Who Died Young

So fair a face, so exquisite a mind,
Such innocence with so much beauty join'd,
Heav'n thought too good for earth, so call'd her hence,
To places fit for so much excellence.

I never read the Bulletin
except when I've got somethin' in
So don't think that I shall read
(ev'n if it publishes) your screed
which was due to me by promise
(Please excuse the lack of commas)

Farewell!
Shadows and scenes that have, for many hours,
Been my companions; I part from ye like friends —
Dear and familiar ones — with deep sad thoughts,
And hopes, almost misgivings!

The sound of her silk skirt has stopped.
On the marble pavement dust grows.
Her empty room is cold and still.
Fallen leaves are piled against the doors.
Longing for that lovely lady
How can I bring my aching heart to rest?

With a thousand nights' dream
I have rinsed clear the gentle brow
of my heart's love,
to transplant it
into the heavens.
A fierce bird
knows, and in mimicry
arcs through the midwinter sky.

All the young men I know
are penniless
This man, and that man, too
All the young men I know