Short Poems

Night

Night like purple flakes of snow
Falls with ease
Catching on the roofs of houses
In the tops of trees
Down upon the distant grass
And the distant flower
It will drift into this room
In an hour. . . . . . . . .

The Net of Law

The net of law is spread so wide,
No sinner from its sweep may hide.

Its meshes are so fine and strong,
They take in every child of wrong.

O wondrous web of mystery!
Big fish alone escape from thee!

On Their Appointed Rounds

Inscription on the Main Post Office, New York City

Neither snow, nor rain,
nor heat, nor gloom of night
stays these couriers
from the swift completion
of their appointed rounds.

One Desiring Me to Read, But Slept It Out, Wakening

NAY ; DOE NOT Smile ; my Lips shall rather dwell
For ever on my Pipe,
Then read to you one word, or Sillable:
You are not ripe
To Judge, or Apprehend
Of witt. Ile rather Spend
Six howers together, in Tobacco-taking
Then read to you, and cannot keep you wakeing.

The Mocking-Bird

The name thou wearest does thee grievous wrong.
No mimic thou! That voice is thine alone!
The poets sing but strains of Shakespeare's song;
The birds, but notes of thine imperial own!

A Corsage Bouquet

M YRTILLA , to-night,
— — Wears Jacqueminot roses.
She's the loveliest sight!
Myrtilla to-night: —
Correspondingly light
— — My pocket-book closes.
Myrtilla, to-night
— — Wears Jacqueminot roses.

Soul and Sense

Myriads of motley molecules through space
Move round triumphant. By their whirlpool pace
Shall we be shaken? All in earth's vast span,
Our very bodies, veer to other shapes;
Mid the mad dance one stubborn power escapes,
Looks on and marvels, — 't is the soul of man.

Sappho's Reply

My voice rings down through thousands of years
To coil around your body and give you strength,
You who have wept in direct sunlight,
Who have hungered in invisible chains,
Tremble to the cadence of my legacy:
An army of lovers shall not fail.

My Sweetie's a Mule in the Mine

My sweetie's a mule in the mine,
I drive her without any lines,
On the rumble I sit,
Tobacco I spit
All over my sweetie's behind.

Exhortation to Learn of Others' Trouble

My Ratcliffe, when thy rechless youth offends,
Receive thy scourge by others' chastisement.
For such calling, when it works none amends,
Then plagues are sent without advertisement.
Yet Salomon said, the wronged shall recure:
But Wyatt said true, the scar doth aye endure.