Fiametta walks under the quincebuds
In a gown the color of flowers;
Her small breasts shine through the silken stuff
Like raindrops after showers
The green hem of her dress is silk, but duller
Than her eyes' green color.

Her shadow restores the grass's green—
Where the sun had gilded it;
The air has given her copper hair
The sanguine that was requisite.
Whatever her flaws, my lady
Has no fault in her young body.

She leans with her long slender arms
To pull down morning upon her—

Few words are best; I wish you well;
Bethel, I'm told, will soon be here;
Some morning walks along the Mall,
And evening friends, will end the year.

If, in this interval between
The falling leaf and coming frost,
You please to see, on Twickenham Green,
Your friend, your poet, and your host,

For three whole days you here may rest
From office, business, news, and strife:
And (what most folks would think a jest)
Want nothing else, except your wife.

A few days before you died, death
cast her eye on one of your own age:
at twenty, you were a student, he a working lad,
you noble and rich, he a plebeian son of toil:
but those days you lived together illumined with a flame
of gold our ancient Roma, restoring her to youth again.
— I've just seen his corpse, poor old Zucchetto's.
Drunk, he was roaming the dark streets round the markets
and a tram coming from San Paolo ran him down,
dragging him along the rails under the plane trees:
they left him there for hours, beneath the wheels:

Feel so low-down an' sad Lawd,
Feel so low-down an' sad Lawd,
Lost ev'ry thing I ever had
Ain't got no friend nowhere Lawd,
Ain't got no friend nowhere Lawd,
All by myself no one to care.

I met a man in my own home town, in my own hometown,
I met a man in my own home town,
Coaxed me away now he has thrown me down.

I want to see that Indian River shore, Indian River shore,
I want to see that Indian River shore,
IIf I get back I'll never leave no more.

When I was home the door was never closed, door was never closed,

‘A featherd fowl 's in your orchard, father,
O dear, but it sings sweet!
What would I give, my father dear,
That bonnie bird to meet!’
What would I give, etc.

‘O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary,
Let a' your folly be;
There 's six Scots lords tomorrow, child,
That will a' dine wi me,
And ye maun serve them a', Mary,
As 't were for meat and fee.’

She served them up, sae has she down,
The footmen a' the same,
But her mind was aye on Love Robbie,
Stood out below the rain.

A hundred pun o pennies roun,
Tied in a towel so sma,

Fear not, dear love, that I'll reveal
Those hours of pleasure we two steal;
No eye shall see, nor yet the sun
Descry, what thou and I have done.
No ear shall hear our love, but we
Silent as the night will be.
The God of Love himself (whose dart
Did first wound mine, and then thy heart)
Shall never know that we can tell
What sweets in stol'n embraces dwell.
This only means may find it out:
If when I die, physicians doubt
What caused my death, and, there to view
Of all their judgements which was true,
Rip up my heart. Oh then I fear

The fault of the age is a mad endeavor
To leap to heights that were made to climb:
By a burst of strength, of a thought most clever,
We plan to forestall and outwit Time.

We scorn to wait for the thing worth having;
We want high noon at the day's dim dawn;
We find no pleasure in toiling and saving,
As our forefathers did in the old times gone.

We force our roses, before their season,
To bloom and blossom for us to wear;
And then we wonder and ask the reason
Why perfect buds are so few and rare.

The fatherless boy, thirteen, walks and weeps.
On the road he meets a man who asks him his story.
He says, " I am of the Wang family at Hu-hsien —
my grandfather was once the Prefect there.
Two years ago, I went east with my father,
thousands of miles of hardship, to visit his in-law.
His in-law — of the Liu family — came from Pa-hsien:
he had borrowed some money, but when the debt was called in
he didn't pay it back.
One day, he left his job, and all of us took the boat together
toward his home town.

" Father, teach me how to pray, "
Tell me what I ought to say,
I would pray like Jesus.

" Father, teach me how to live,
I to Thee my best would give,
I would live like Jesus.

" Father, teach me how to serve,
And Thy holy will observe,
I would serve like Jesus. "

I.

Father of mercies, in thy word
What endless glory shines?
For ever be thy name ador'd
For these celestial lines.

II.

Here, mines of heavenly wealth disclose
Their bright, unbounded store:
The glittering gem no longer glows,
And India boasts no more.

III.

Here, may the wretched sons of want
Exhaustless riches find:
Riches, above what earth can grant,