Short Poems

The King to Oxford sent a troop of horse,
For Tories own no argument but force:
With equal skill to Cambridge books he sent,
For Whigs admit no force but argument.

King George, observing with judicious eyes
The state of both his Universities,
To Oxford sent a troop of horse; and why?
That learned body wanted loyalty.
To Cambridge books he sent, as well discerning
How much that loyal body wanted learning.

Kind hearts are the gardens,
— Kind thoughts are the roots,
Kind words are the blossoms,
— Kind deeds are the fruits;
Love is the sweet sunshine
— That warms into life,
For only in darkness
— Grow hatred and strife.

Keep in God's way; keep pace with evry hour
Hurt none; do all the Good that's in your Power.
Hours can't look back at all; theyl stay for none
Tread sure, keep up with them, and All's your own.

Just life and death make up our worldly state
So lose no sleep about it, early or late
Whatever firm assurances are given,
It is mere foolishness to trust a fate.
Building a house, he's wise as well as brave
Who when he does so also plans his grave
The carpenter who knows both wakes and bridals
Bits of a coffin for a crib will save.

Just as he is growing a beard,
The beautiful Lado
(He who despised us all)
Has fallen in love —
With a boy!
Fate is quick to revenge.

John was a bad boy, and beat a poor cat;
Tom put a stone in a blind man's hat;
James was the boy who neglected his prayers;
They've all grown up ugly, and nobody cares.

A CARRIER, WHO DIED OF DRUNKENNESS

John A DAMS lies here, of the parish of Southwell,
A Carrier who carried his can to his mouth well;
He carried so much, and he carried so fast,
He could carry no more — so was carried at last;
For, the liquor he drank being too much for one,
He could not carry off, — so he's now carri-on .

The jewelled steps are already quite white with dew,
It is so late that the dew soaks my gauze stockings,
And I let down the crystal curtain
And watch the moon through the clear autumn.
By Rihaku (Li T`ai Po)

Jesus, Shepherd of thy sheep, Hither with thy flock we come;
All our souls in mercy keep, Never from thy side to roam.
From all sin and mortal harm, In thy free salvation bless.
Take these lambs with in thine arms, Gently to thy bosom pressed,