English

The Dachshund leads a quiet life
Not far above the ground;
He takes an elongated wife,
They travel all around.

They leave the lighted metropole;
Nor turn to look behind
Upon the headlands of the soul,
The tundras of the mind.

They climb together through the dusk
To ask the Lost-and-Found
For information on the stars
Not far above the ground.

The Dachshunds seem to journey on:
And following them, I
Take up my monocle, the Moon,
And gaze into the sky.

She kissd his mouth and she combd his hair,
As she had done before, O,
She belted him in his noble broun,
Before he went to Yarrow.

O he 's gone up yon high, [high] hill —
I wat it was with sorrow —
In a den he spied nine weal armd men,
On the bonny banks of Yarrow.

" I see that you are nine for one,
Which are of an unequal marrow;
As lang 's I 'm able to wield my bran,
I 'll fight and be your marrow."

O he has killed them a' but one,
Which bred to him great sorrow;

The cynics say that every rose
Is guarded by a thorn that grows
To spoil our posies:
But I no pleasure therefore lack;
I keep my hands behind my back
When smelling roses.

'Tis proved that Sodom's appletarts
Have ashes as component parts
For those that steal them:
My soul no disillusion seeks;
I love my apples' rosy cheeks,
But never peel them.

Though outwardly a gloomy shroud,
The inner half of every cloud
Is bright and shining:

The cygnet crested on the purple water;
The fawn at play beside its graceful dam;
On cowslip bank, in spring, the artless lamb;
The hawthorn robed in white, May's fragrant daughter;
The willow weeping o'er the silent stream;
The rich laburnum with its golden show;
The fairy vision of a poet's dream;
On summer eve earth's many-coloured bow;
Diana aTher bath; Aurora bright;
The dove that sits and singeth o'er her woes;
The star of eve; the lily, child of light;
Fair Venus' self, as from the sea she rose!

Cushy cow, bonny, let down thy milk,
And I will give thee a gown of silk,
A gown of silk and a silver tee
If thou wilt let down thy milk to me.

Curly locks, Curly locks,
Wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash dishes
Nor yet feed the swine;
But sit on a cushion
And sew a fine seam,
And feed upon strawberries,
Sugar and cream.

Curled in his black-ringed tail drowsed he,
Gray Raccoon of the hollow tree;
But the North Wind called and he woke too soon;
Out from his hole came Gray Raccoon.

Sharp-faced, keen-eared, shrewdly wise,
Mischief bright in his dark brown eyes,
Over the frost-ridged path he crept
To the bowldered cave where the Black Bear slept.

Warm in his fur and his donjon keep,
Moween the Black Bear slept his sleep.
Led by the light of the wintry moon,
Into the den came Gray Raccoon.

There he came and there he saw;

THE CURATE thinks you have no soul;
I know thaThe has none. But you,
Dear friend, whose solemn self-control,
In our foursquare familiar pew,
Was pattern to my youth — whose bark
Called me in summer dawns to rove —
Have you gone down into the dark
Where none is welcome — none may love?
I will not think those good brown eyes
Have spent their life of truth so soon;
But in some canine paradise
Your wraith, I know, rebukes the moon,
And quarters every plain and hill,
Seeking his master . . . As for me,

Cupid, in a bed of roses
Sleeping, chancid to be stung
Of a bee that lay among
The flowers where he himself reposes;
And thus to his mother weeping
Told that he this wound did take
Of a little wingid snake,
As he lay securely sleeping.
Cytherea smiling said
That " if so great sorrow spring
From a silly bee's weak sting
As should make thee thus dismayed,
What anguish feel they, think'st thou, and what pain,
Whom thy empoisoned arrows cause complain?"

The bloudy trunck of him who did possesse
Above the rest a haplesse happy state,
This little Stone doth Seale, but not depresse,
And scarce can stop the rowling of his fate.

Brasse Tombes which justice hath deny'd t'his fault,
The common pity to his vertues payes,
Adorning an Imaginary vault,
Which from our minds time strives in vaine to raze.

Ten yeares the world upon him falsly smil'd,
Sheathing in fawning lookes the deadly knife
Long aymed at his head; That so beguild
It more securely might bereave his Life.