Short Poems

Punting pole stuck in the reeds,
he ties up his boat.
Late at night, the moon climbs to the top of the pole.
The old fisherman is dead drunk — call him,
he won't wake up! —
In the morning he rises, frost-prints
on the shadow of his raincoat.

" PUDDING and pie, "
Said Jane; " O my!"
" Which would you rather?"
Said her father.
" Both," cried Jane,
Quite bold and plain.

Then it's collar 'im tight,
In the name o' the Lawd!
'Ustle 'im, shake 'im till 'e's sick,
Wot, 'e would , would 'e? Well,
Then yer've got ter give 'im 'Ell,
An' it's trunch, trunch, truncheon does the trick.

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper;
A peck of pickled pepper Peter Piper picked.
If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper,
Where's the peck of pickled pepper Peter Piper picked?

Perhaps it is no matter that you died.
— Life's an incognito which you saw through:
You never told on life — you had your pride;
— But life has told on you.

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man!
Bake a cake as fast as you can;
Prick it, and pat it, and mark it with T,
And put it in the oven for Tommy and me.

An oyster that went to bed x-million years ago,
tucked itself into a sand-bottom, yawned (so to speak),
and woke a mile high in the Grand Canyon of the Colorado.

If I am not here for breakfast, geologize at will.

Out of the mighty Yule log came
The crooning of the lithe wood-flame, —
A single bar of music fraught
With cheerful yet half pensive thought, —
A thought elusive: out of reach,
Yet trembling on the verge of speech.

Out of a fired ship, which, by no way
But drowning, could be rescued from the flame,
Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came
Near the foes' ships, did by their shot decay;

So all were lost, which in the ship were found,
They in the sea being burnt, they in the burnt ship drown'd.

Our fathers took oaths as of old they took wives,
To have and to hold for the term of their lives,
But we take our oaths, as our whores, for our ease,
And a whore and a rogue may part when they please.