Short Poems

Echoes are soundless.
Memories have no memory
except for those
who hear sounds in echoes
and discover memories in memory.

Ech, sic a pairish, a pairish, a pairish,
Ech, sic a pairish was little Kilkell:
They hae hangit the minister, droont the Precentor,
They Pu'd down the steeple, and drunkit the bell.

Dwell awfull Silence on the shady Hills
Among the bleating flocks, and purling rills,
When Pan the Reed doth to his lip apply ,
Inspiring it with sacred Harmony,
Hydriads, and Hamadryads at that sound
In a well order'd measure beat the ground.

Drink, unhappy lover, drink.
Let Bacchus bring forgetfulness
And drown your passion for the boy.
Drink and drain the brimming cup
Till wine drives out the anguish.

I'll never forget the boy
who slept here last night.
He could be the son of a tile-maker the way clay yields to his touch, or the scion of a mole, the way he burrows and thrusts, or perhaps the stripling of a seaman, the way the oar answers his pulse. His first experience, he avows, a claim that raises certain doubts.
I've had my share
before and I assume I'll have some more, but the memory of that boy last night is a pleasure I shall always store.

Draw a pail of water
For my lady's daughter;
My father's a king, and my mother's a queen,
My two little sisters are dressed in green,
Stamping grass and parsley,
Marigold leaves and daisies.
One rush, two rush,
Prithee, fine lady, come under my bush.

Moonlight shines on the lotus pond;
lotus fragrance pervades my clothes.
There's wine in the golden jug and a beauty playing the black zither.
Captivated by the mood, I sing a sad refrain. Pine and bamboo sway to my song; the cranes in the garden dance.
Thus,
happy with relatives, glad with friends, I'll live the span allotted me

The dove says, Coo, coo,
What shall I do?
I can scarce maintain two.
Pooh, pooh, says the wren,
I have got ten,
And keep them all like gentlemen.

The doggies went to the mill,
This way and that way;
They took a lick out of this one's sack,
They took a lick out of that one's sack,
And a leap in the stream, and a dip in the dam,
And went walloping, walloping, walloping home!

Doctor Foster is a good man,
He teaches children all he can:
Reading, writing, arithmetic,
And doesn't forget to use his stick.
When he does he makes them dance
Out of England into France,
Out of France into Spain,
Round the world and back again.