Such serious questions bringing,
That merry rascal Solomon
Would show a sober face:--
And then again Pavlova
To set our spirits singing,
The snowy-swan bacchante
All glamour, glee and grace.
IV. In Praise of Gloriana's Remarkable Golden Hair
The gleaming head of one fine friend
Is bent above my little song,
So through the treasure-pits of Heaven
In fancy's shoes, I march along.
I wander, seek and peer and ponder
In Splendor's last ensnaring lair--
'Mid burnished harps and burnished crowns
Where noble chariots gleam and flare:
Amid the spirit-coins and gems,
The plates and cups and helms of fire--
The gorgeous-treasure-pits of Heaven--
Where angel-misers slake desire!
O endless treasure-pits of gold
Where silly angel-men make mirth--
I think that I am there this hour,
Though walking in the ways of earth!
Fourth Section ~~ Twenty Poems in which the Moon is the Principal Figure of Speech
Once More--To Gloriana
Girl with the burning golden eyes,
And red-bird song, and snowy throat:
I bring you gold and silver moons
And diamond stars, and mists that float.
I bring you moons and snowy clouds,
I bring you prairie skies to-night
To feebly praise your golden eyes
And red-bird song, and throat so white.
First Section: Moon Poems for the Children/Fairy-tales for the Children
Old Euclid drew a circle
On a sand-beach long ago.
He bounded and enclosed it
With angles thus and so.
His set of solemn greybeards
Nodded and argued much
Of arc and of circumference,
Diameter and such.
A silent child stood by them
From morning until noon
Because they drew such charming
Round pictures of the moon.
II. The Haughty Snail-king
(What Uncle William told the Children)
Twelve snails went walking after night.
They'd creep an inch or so,
Then stop and bug their eyes
Some folks... are... deadly... slow.
Twelve snails went walking yestereve,
Led by their fat old king.
They were so dull their princeling had
No sceptre, robe or ring--
Only a paper cap to wear
When nightly journeying.
This king-snail said: "I feel a thought
Within.... It blossoms soon....
O little courtiers of mine,...
I crave a pretty boon....
Oh, yes... (High thoughts with effort come
And well-bred snails are ALMOST dumb.)
"I wish I had a yellow crown
As glistering... as... the moon."
III. What the Rattlesnake Said
The moon's a little prairie-dog.
He shivers through the night.
He sits upon his hill and cries
For fear that _I_ will bite.
The sun's a broncho. He's afraidDownload<<BackPagesMainNext>>