Short Poems

He must not laugh at his own wheeze:
A snuff box has no right to sneeze.

He knows, He loves, He cares,
Nothing this truth can dim,
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice with Him.

The sound of children
playfully blowing
straw whistles
wakes me from my
summer afternoon nap.

He had no royal palace,
Only a stable bare.
He had no watchful servants,
An ox and ass stood there.
But light shone forth from where He lay;
The King of Love upon the hay!

Gut eats all day, and lechers all the night;
So all his meat he tasteth over, twice;
And striving so to double his delight,
He makes himself a thoroughfare of vice.
Thus in his belly can he change a sin:
Lust it comes out, that gluttony went in.

Half asleep,
chanting a No play,
his rear end for a drum

HE DREW a circle that shut me out—
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!

1. The harvest dawn is near, The year delays not long;
2. Sad to his toil he goes, His seed with weeping leaves;
And he who sows with many a tear, Shall reap with many a song.
But he shall come at twilight's close, And bring his golden sheaves.

POWER

H AROUN , the Caliph, through the sunlit street
Walked slowly with bent head and weary breath,
And cried, " Alas, I cannot stay my feet,
That move unceasing toward the gate of Death. "

Harlackenden, among these men of note Christ hath thee seated:
In warlike way Christ thee aray, with zeal, and love well heated.
As generall belov'd of all, Christ Souldiers honour thee:
In thy young yeares, courage appeares, and kinde benignity.
Short are thy days, spent to his praise, whose Church work thou must aid,
His work shall bide, silver tride, but thine by death is staid.