Short Poems

The great rain is over,
— The little rain begun,
Falling from the higher leaves,
— Bright in the sun,
Down to the lower leaves,
— One drop by one.

XXV, 1

There's force to this cold sun, makes beard stubble stand shinily. We look, we pretend great things to our glass — rubbing our chin: This is a profound comedian who grimaces deeds into slothful breasts. This is a sleepy president, without followers save oak leaves — but their coats are of the wrong color. This is a farmer — plowed a field in his dreams and since that time — goes stroking the weeds that choke his furrows. This is a poet left his own country —

XXIV, 2

Pathology literally speaking is a flower garden. Syphilis covers the body with salmon-red petals. The study of medicine is an inverted sort of horticulture. Over and above all this floats the philosophy of disease which is a stern dance. One of its most delightful gestures is bringing flowers to the sick .

XIV, 2

KORA IN Hell : I MPROVISATIONS

II, 1

Why go further? One might conceivably rectify the rhythm, study all out and arrive at the perfection of a tiger lily or a china doorknob. One might lift all out of the ruck, be a worthy successor to — the man in the moon. Instead of breaking the back of a willing phrase why not try to follow the wheel through — approach death at a walk, take in all the scenery. There's as much reason one way as the other and then — one never knows — perhaps we'll bring back Euridice — this time!

Nelly kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in.
Say I'm jaundiced, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Nelly kissed me.

A red sky at night
Is a shepherd's delight,
A red sky in the morning
Is a shepherd's warning,
A sky that looks bad
Is a shepherd's plaid,
A good-looking sky
Is a shepherd's pie.

BY CHANG PI LAN (JADE-GREEN ORCHID) FROM HU PEI (NORTH OF THE LAKE)

My Lover is like the tree-peony of Lo Yang.
I, unworthy, like the common willows of Wu Ch'ang.
Both places love the Spring wind.
When shall we hold each other's hands again?

Egypts Pyramids inclose their Kings,
But this farr braver, nobler things;
Vertue, Beauty, Love, Faith, all heere lye
Kept in Myras Tombe, shut from eye:
The Phoenix dyes to raise another faire,
Borne of her ashes, to be heire;
So this sweete Place may claime that right in woe,
Since heere she lyes, Heaven willing so.

II

W E shriek to live, but no man ever lives
Till he has rid the ghost of human breath;
We dream to die, but no man ever dies
Till he has quit the road that runs to death.