Short Poems

What things have we seen,
Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been
So nimble, and so full of subtill flame,
As if that every one from whence they came,
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
And had resolved to live a fool, the rest
Of his dull life.

Trail all your pikes, dispirit every drum,
March in a slow procession from afar,
Ye silent, ye dejected men of war!
Be still the hautboys, and the flute be dumb!
Display no more, in vain, the lofty banner;
For see! where on the bier before ye lies
The pale, the fall'n, th' untimely sacrifice
To your mistaken shrine, to your false idol honour!

Although I work, and seldom cease,
At Dumas pere and Dumas fils ,
Alas, I cannot make me care
For Dumas fils and Dumas pere .

Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Buried all of his libretti ,
Thought the matter over — then
Went and dug them up again.

The valley spirit never dies —
it is called " the mysterious female " ;
The gate of the mysterious female
is called " the root of heaven and earth. "
Gossamer it is,
seemingly insubstantial,
yet never consumed through use.

" Madam,
I am glad
to report
that my husband
who is missing

From a minor
branch
of the Oceanids,

notes
to The Welfare

This metal is engraved with Shang-style markings:
you certainly get credit for the greatest marvel
on earth!
Some future year, I'll wear it, as I enter deep
into the mountains:
at the peak of Heaven's Eye, I'll stamp it
on the white clouds.

Your weeping gray streets
inhabit my memory
and go with me to the cities where glory is,
they cry when we see the clean-washed streets,
the glad houses,
ask me:
How will our people
and our roads emerge from the age of tears?

The trains roll over my heart
when they run South
and my bones are littered over the Northern rocks.
Why, when I yearn, do the trains' eyes become my window,
the sound of the train my tears?
Why should I be torn apart,
then tossed away by exile?