Short Poems

Little Robin red breast,
I hear you sing your song.
I would love to have you put it into my little cage,
Into my little mouth.

Little Miss Muffet,
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating of curds and whey;
There came a great spider
That sat down beside her,
And frightened Miss Muffet away

The little Boy, to show his might and power,
Turned Io to a cow, Narcissus to a flower;
Transformed Apollo to a homely swain,
And Jove himself into a golden rain.
These shapes were tolerable, but by th' mass
H'as metamorphosed me into an ass!

CIRCUMSTANCE

L INKED to a clod, harassed, and sad
With sordid cares, she knew not life was sweet
Who should have moved in marble halls, and had
Kings and crown-princes at her feet.

Like when the burning sun doth rise,
And drives the stars from out the skies,
My very soul was turned to flame,
When 'mongst the youths first Thendis came.
And still I burn and Thendis seek,
Though thick the hair upon his cheek.
E'en though the sun of youth shall wane,
To me sole light he'll e'er remain.

Life is a jest; and all things show it.
I thought so once; but now I know it.

Let others cheer the winning man,
There's one I hold worth while;
'Tis he who does the best he can,
Then loses with a smile.
Beaten he is, but not to stay
Down with the rank and file;
That man will win some other day,
Who loses with a smile.

Larikie, larikie, lee!
Wha'll gang up to heaven wi' me?
No the lout that lies in his bed,
No the doolfu' that dreeps his head.

Lalla Rookh
Is a naughty book
By Tommy Moore,
Who has written four;
Each warmer
Than the former,
So the most recent
Is the least decent.

Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean,
And so, betwixt them both, you see,
They licked the platter clean.