Short Poems

C E are cities! It is a people who have mounted the Alleghenies and the Lebanons dream! Cottages crystal and wood move on rails and pulleys invisible. Old craters girded colossi and copper palm trees roar melodiously in the fires. Amorous celebrations ring hanging on behind the chalets channels. Hunting chimes crying in the gorge. Corporate giants singers flock in clothes and bright banners as light crown. On platforms amid the chasms, the Rolands sound bravery. On the catwalks of the abyss and the roofs of hostels, the heat of heaven pavoise masts.

I have already seen her head so bowed
With inner loneliness, and the sun
Disgilded so of its high light, one would have said
So looked, so must have looked, that queen,
Berengaria, when, in a town of Maine, she heard
That Richard had gone forth again
With all his followers, toward the Saracens,
So noble her chagrin, so sunk her head.

I am , the great Jehovah cries,
Throughout the ocean, earth, and skies,
And, smitten to the heart,
All nature, without voice or sound,
Replies, O Lord, thou art!

Thy buckles, O Garrick, thy friend may now use,
But no mortal hereafter shall tread in thy shoes.

Douglas harbour illuminated;
Boats in motion,
Dark masts and eloquent ropes;
Noises from the town
Ascend
To the commanding airy steeps.

All night,
And all day,
And for ever,
The vale of Meiringen
Is sounding with torrents.

On our right was the Jungfrau
In stillness of deepest winter;
And the opposite hill, the Wengern,
Was carpeted with green grass and flowers.

The columbine
is a graceful
slender creature;
A female seeking retirement,
and growing freest,
and most graceful
Where it is most alone.

The young bullfinches
In their party-coloured raiment
Bustle about
Among the blossoms
And poise themselves
Like wire-dancers or tumblers,
Shaking the twigs
And dashing off the blossoms.

It is scarce a bower —
A little parlour only,
Not enclosed by walls,
But shaped out for a resting place
By the rocks
And the ground rising about it.
It had a sweet moss carpet.