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Various Poems Collection
* * *
Once there was an elephant
Who tried to use the telephant.
No, no, i mean the telePHONE!
How could it be, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk.
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee.
Dear me, i think i'd better drop my song
Of elephop and telephong.
The more i try to say it right
the more i seem to get it wrong!
There is one more nice poem from a cute toy-bear:
* * *
And all your friends
I mean all your friend
(Very awkward this, it keeps
Well, anyhow, we send
* * *
The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone,
Bright eyes, accomplished shape, and lang'rous waist!
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise
Vanished unseasonably at shut of eve,
When the dusk holiday or holinight
Of fragrant-curtained love begins to weave
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight;
But, as I've read love's missal through today,
He'll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.
I Love Thee
I love thee, as I love the calm
Of sweet, star-lighted hours!
I love thee, as I love the balm
Of early jes'mine flow'rs.
I love thee, as I love the last
Rich smile of fading day,
Which lingereth, like the look we cast,
On rapture pass'd away.
I love thee as I love the tone
Of some soft-breathing flute
Whose soul is wak'd for me alone,
When all beside is mute.
I love thee as I love the first
Young violet of the spring;
Or the pale lily, April-nurs'd,
To scented blossoming.
I love thee, as I love the full,
Clear gushings of the song,
Which lonely-sad-and beautiful-
At night-fall floats along,
Pour'd by the bul-bul forth to greet
The hours of rest and dew;
When melody and moonlight meet
To blend their charm, and hue.
I love thee, as the glad bird loves
The freedom of its wing,
On which delightedly it moves
In wildest wandering.
I love thee as I love the swell,
And hush, of some low strain,
Which bringeth, by its gentle spell,
The past to life again.
Such is the feeling which from thee
Nought earthly can allure:
Tis ever link'd to all I see
Of gifted-high-and pure!
* * *
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
* * *
Says Tweed to Till:
What makes you run so still?
Says Till to Tweed:
Though you run with speed,
And I run slow,
For one man that you drown
I drown two.
There are some qualities some incorporate things,
That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evenced in solid and shade.
There is a two-fold Silence sea and shore
Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places,
Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless: his name's No More.
He is the corporate Silence: dread him not!
No power hath he of evil in himself;
But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!)
Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf,
That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod
No foot of man) commend thyself to God!
Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should love, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows; let it suffice
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
Down by the river I heard a voice crying
Over the waters with never a word,
O, was it the wind in the willow trees sighing,
Or the sound of a bird?
Into the forest I saw a shape glancing,
When the creatures had settled down for the night,
O, was it the moon on the mossy banks dancing,
Or a trick of the light?
I cannot be sure but you have to believe me,
That strange things were happening in that breathing air,
My quick ears and eyes, they did not deceive me,
Some magic was there.
The friendly cow all red and white,
love with all my heart:
She gives me cream with all her might,
To eat with apple-tart.
She wanders lowing here and there,
And yet she cannot stray,
All in the pleasant open air,
The pleasant light of day;
And blown by all the winds that pass
And wet with all the showers,
She walks among the meadow grass
And eats the meadow flowers.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Good and Bad Children
Children, you are very little,
And your bones are very brittle;
If you would grow great and stately,
You must try to walk sedately.
You must still be bright and quiet,
And content with simple diet;
And remain, through all bewild'ring,
Innocent and honest children.
Happy hearts and happy faces,
Happy play in grassy places
That was how in ancient ages,
Children grew to kings and sages.
But the unkind and the unruly,
And the sort who eat unduly,
They must never hope for glory
Theirs is quite a different story!
Cruel children, crying babies,
All grow up as geese and gabies,
Hated, as their age increases,
By their nephews and their nieces.
The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
On streets and fields and harbour quays,
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.
The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,
The howling dog by the door of the house,
The bat that lies in bed at noon,
All love to be out by the light of the moon.
But all of the things that belong to the day
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;
And flowers and children close their eyes
Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.
When Did the World Begin?
'When did the world begin and how?'
I asked a lamb, a goat, a cow.
'What's it all about and why?'
I asked a pig as he went by.
"Where will the whole thing end, and when?'
I asked a duck, a goose, a hen.
And I copied all their answers too,
A quack, a baa, an oink, a moo.
One busy housewife sweeping the floor,
Two busy housewives polishing the door,
Three busy housewives washing the socks,
Four busy housewives winding the clocks,
Five busy housewives cleaning with the broom,
Six busy housewives tidying up the room,
Seven busy housewives giving the cat a drink,
Eight busy housewives washing in the sink,
Nine busy housewives cooking dinner, too,
Ten busy housewives with nothing else to do.
Away, away from men and towns,
To the wild woods and the downs,
To the silent wilderness
Where the soul need not repress
Its music, lest it should not find
An echo in another's mind
While the touch of Nature's mind,
While the touch of Nature's art
Harmonizes heart to heart.