Short Poems

Snap at me, Malice! snap; thy teeth are rotten
And hurt me not: all know thee misbegotten!
The cureless evil runs throughout thy race,
And from Cain downward thy descent we trace.

Pardon our enemies , we pray
Devoutly every sabbath-day;
Ere the next morn we change our notes,
And blow them up or cut their throats.
Above us and below meanwhile
The Angels weep, the Devils smile.

I SWORE I would forget you; but this oath
Brought back your image closer to my breast:
That oaths have little worth your broken troth
Had taught me; teach my heart like yours to rest.

If you are jealous as pug-dog, O poet,
Button your bosom tight, and never show it.
If you are angry at the world's disdain,
What the world gives you, give the world again.
The Muses take delight in poets' sighs,
But they hear few ascending from the wise.
" The more the merrier " (wicked jades!) they say,
Laugh in your face, and turn their own away.

TO SOPHIA

A CUTE in later as in earlier days
Hath ever been the poet's ear to praise;
Indifferent to its loudest voice am I,
And would exchange it for your faintest sigh.

How calm, O life, is thy decline!
Ah! it is only when the sun
His hot and headstrong course hath run,
Heaven's guiding stars serenely shine.

(Imaginary)

Pope , tho' his letters are so civil,
Wishes me fairly at the devil;
A little dentifrice and soap
Is all the harm I wish poor Pope.

A ROUND the child bend all the three
Sweet Graces: Faith, Hope, Charity.
Around the man bend other faces;
Pride, Envy, Malice, are his Graces.

Leave me alone! the pettish schoolboy cries,
Leave me alone! say too the calm and wise.

At every step of life expect
Flings from your Ragged School , O bard!
Walk quietly, and recollect
That rotten apples hit not hard.