Short Poems

O, dearly, I love you my sister Aurusta,
So soft and so gentle, not sullin and crusty;
'Twixt us here shall e'er be constant and true an
Affection like that between Hades and Juan;
That the words shall look off from the page of my glory,
To the Atlantic Monthly for that other story.

California's dull,
For she's lost her Moguls,
And don't know where for to find them;
But let them alone
And they'll waggle home,
And carry their tails behind them.

I saw where in his lowly grave
Departed Genius lay.
And mournful yew trees o'er it wave,
To hide it from the day.

Trav'ller, thou lookst for old Rome in the new,
And yet in Rome , thou nought of Rome canst view
Behold the frame of walls, dis-joynted stone,
And the vast Theater, that's overthrown;
Lo here's Romes carkass still; thou may'st behold
How the new Rome is threatned by the old
Learn hence the power of fate, fix'd things decay,
But that that's alwayes toss'd and mov'd, does stay.

O, thou, who art more fair than words can tell
Or a fond lover's nimble fancy paint,
May I not come to thee, where thou dost dwell
With hope that thou wilt heed my mournful plaint?
O, Love, thou canst not choose but tender be,
Knowing my every heart-beat is for thee!

Grey trees, grey skies, and not a star;
Grey mist, grey hush;
And then frail, exquisite, afar,
A hermit-thrush.

" Specks, tiny specks, in this translucent amber:
Your leave, bride-roses, may one pry and see?
How odd! a dainty little skeleton-chamber;
And — odder yet — sealed walls but windows be!
Death's open secret. — Well, we are ;
And here comes the jolly angel with the jar! "

Ring down! The curtain falls and ye
Will go your ways. Yet think of me.
And genie take what's genie given
And long be happy under heaven.

Brief was the leafing of the ash,
And yet more brief
Was love's fair flourish, bud to falling leaf.

The tree, that showed no green till June,
October bares;
And love, too, shivers naked in chill airs.

You are just out of the pit?
I'm out of the pit .
And lucky, my lad, to escape with your life out of it!
Ay, to be sure, in a way — and yet, I don't know
I can say that I'm out of the pit, while a lad's left below.