Short Poems

My friend, although you take your name
From Artemis, you cannot claim
She gave you such a cloak;
So rough and soldier-like is it;
Henceforward I shall call you " Kit" —
'Tis just — a Martial joke!

Part of your beard is plucked away, part shorn, part clipped instead;
Who would believe me should I say you've but a single head?

My Priscus has returned from Aetna's shore,
A milk-white pearl should mark the happy date;
Strain clear the wine — thy precious essence pour,
Jar that hast known thy hundredth consulate.
When shall my joyous board so celebrate
A feast so dear, and warm my heart once more?
Not till the Cyprian goddess shall restore
My Flaccus, shall I keep a feast so great.

He poisons wives, she husbands by the dozen,
With Pluto's torch the marriage-god they cozen
Unite them, Venus, in the marriage tether,
So death shall carry off the two together.

Seek you a richer patron? Many do
For these can give them larger doles, it's true.
Yet mine will give a hundred baths to you:
The best of luxuries is cheapest too.

So he is " sorry not to send
His New Year gift." — I wonder now
In what sense he's a sorry friend.
He makes me sorry anyhow.

No vine I give, no orchard fair,
Thou guardian god, to be thy care;
Naught but thy native copse — and there
Are others like to thee.
WarNoff the thief, keep watch and ward,
And save the trees to warm their lord,
For if they fail — thou couldst afford
At least one fire for me.

You gave him back his bond, but why
Should you suppose you gave thereby
The money that was due?
He owed the hundred pounds before?
To please him lend him twenty more —
And keep the I O U.

It is very strange, as it seems to me,
That you and your wife should not agree,
Since each is as vile as vile can be.

A GENUINE " old master" this,
And it would be, as I infer,
An even more authentic Mys,
If you were not that master, Sir.