Short Poems

My early Mistress, now my Antient Muse,
That strong Circaean Liquor cease t' infuse ,
Wherewith thou didst intoxicate my Youth,
Now stoop with dis-inchanted Wings to Truth;
As the Doves flight did guide Æneas, now hine conduct me to the Golden Bough;
Tell (like a Tall Old Oak) how Learning Shoots
To Heav'n her Branches, and to Hell her Roots.

My Dear Son John's deceas'd ah! gone from hence,
Son of my Joy, my Strength, my Excellence,
Though the second Son, the Eldest that surviv'd,
And had allmost to seventeen years ariv'd,
Who in the Colledge Chief of Thirteen was
That then were Entered Members of his Class.
Ah! he is not but gone to take his Right
Of Heritance among the Saints in Light.

Logic does well at school;
And Reason answers every question right;
Poll-parrot Memory unwinds her spool;
And Copy-cat keeps Teacher well in sight:
The Heart's a truant; nothing does by rule;
Safe in its wisdom, is taken for a fool;
Nods through the morning on the dunce's stool;
And wakes to dream all night.

There was an old man of Orleans,
Who was given to eating of beans;
Till once out of sport, he swallowed a quart,
That dyspeptic old man of Orleans.

There was an Old Man of Kildare,
Who climbed into a very high chair;
When he said, — " Here I stays, — till the end of my days,"
That immovable Man of Kildare.

There was a Young Lady whose bonnet
Came untied when the birds sat upon it;
But she said, " I don't care! All the birds in the air
Are welcome to sit on my bonnet! "

There was a Young Lady of Welling,
Whose praise all the world was a telling;
She played on the harp, and caught several carp,
That accomplished Young Lady of Welling.

There was an Old Man of Boulak,
Who sat on a Crocodile's back;
But they said, " Tow'rds the night, he may probably bite,
Which might vex you, Old Man of Boulak! "

I heard a wood thrush in the dusk
Twirl three notes and make a star —
My heart that walked with bitterness
Came back from very far.
Three shining notes were all he had,
And yet they made a starry call —
I caught life back against my breast
And kissed it, scars and all.

Like a lit-up Christmas Tree,
Like a grotto pranked with spars,
Like white corals in green sea,
Like night's sky of crowded stars--
To me like these you show, Syringa
Such heightening power has love, believe,
While here by Eden's gate I linger
Love's tryst to keep, with truant Eve.