You who go through rice paddies in the rain,
you who hurry toward leviathan woods,
you who walk into the gloom of clouds and mountains,
fasten up your raincoat, damn it.

You were a pretty boy once, Archestratus, and
young men burned for your wine-rosy cheeks;
you had no time for me then, on the game with those
who took your bloom away. Now bristly and black
you push your friendship in my face, holding out
straw after others have got your harvest.

You want a guarantee
of love
signed in bold letters?
Yes, I can promise that
you will be the last woman.
But what good is
the sea's guarantee of
an island's boundaries?

You think Fuseli is not a Great Painter Im Glad
This is one of the best compliments he ever had

You ride dat horse, you call him Macadoni,
Jesus, won't you come bumby?
You ride him in de mornin' and you ride him in de evenin',
Jesus, won't you come bumby?
De Lord knows de world's gwine to end up, Jesus, won't you come bumby?

You praise the firm restraint with which they write —
I'm with you there, of course:
They use the snaffle and the curb all right,
But where's the bloody horse?

You madly kiss my lips — I seem to see
A dreadful pit that's gaping wide for me
For you are a professional in love
Amateur I, in my simplicity.

" Imagining her death and cremation " :
Sad — the end that waits me —
to think at last
I'll be a mere haze
pale green over the fields

"Yes, ' is the time,' I cried, "impose the chain
Destined and due to wretches self-enslaved!'
But when I saw such charity remain,
I half could wish this people might be saved.
Faith lost, and hope, their charity begins;
And 'tis a wise design on pitying Heaven,
If this can, cover multitudes of sins,
To take the only way to be forgiven

Yellow-belly, yellow-belly, come and take a swim;
Yes, by golly, when the tide comes in.