Short Poems

Mackerel sky

Mackerel sky, mackerel sky,
Not long wet and not long dry.

The Cows of Heaven

Luminous cows, mysterious cows, with inscrutable hides, enter the celestial passage, one after the other, graceful, jingling into the vast stretching emptiness. From comet to comet, planet to planet, space to space, their tails move like hands shooing the bees of falsehood from the honey of the gods.

Cows enter the heavenly passageway,
and from beyond their horns the evening assumes the rites
of thunder and virility.

A Danish Cradle Song

Lullaby, sweet baby mine!
Mother spins the thread so fine;
Father o'er the long bridge is gone,
Shoes he'll buy for little John.
Pretty shoes with buckles bright.
Sleep, baby mine, now sleep all night!

Cradle Song

Lullaby, my little one,
Go to sleep, little baby.
Pussy's playing in the sun;
Go to sleep, little baby.
Mama's busy spinning yarn,
Daddy's working in the barn,
Lullaby, my baby.

My Heart Is in Merioneth

Low ye hills in ocean lie,
That hide fair Meirion from my eye;
One distant view, Oh! let me take,
Ere yet my longing heart shall break.

Song

L OVE'S on the highroad,
Love's in the byroad —
— Love's on the meadow, and Love's in the mart!
And down every byway
Where I've taken my way
— I've met Love a-smiling — for Love's in my heart!

Look Down Fair Moon

Look down fair moon and bathe this scene,
Pour softly down night's nimbus floods on faces ghastly, swollen, purple,
On the dead on their backs with arms toss'd wide,
Pour down your unstinted nimbus sacred moon.

Fragment

Love's memories haunt my footsteps still
Like ceaseless flowings of the river
Its mystic depths say what can fill?
Sad disappointment waits for ever.

Lovers conceits are like a flattring glasse

Lovers conceits are like a flattring glasse,
That makes the lookers fairer than they are,
Who pleas'd in their conceits contented passe;
Such one was mine, who thought there was none faire,
None witty, modest, vertuous but she,
But now I finde the glasse abused me.

Epitaph, An

A LOVELY young lady I mourn in my rhymes:
She was pleasant, good-natured, and civil sometimes.
Her figure was good: she had very fine eyes,
And her talk was a mixture of foolish and wise.
Her adorers were many, and one of them said,
" She waltzed rather well! It's a pity she's dead! "