Our elder boy has got the clear Great brow; tho' when his brother's black Full eye shows scorn, it... Gismond here? And have you brought my tercel back? I just was telling Adela How many birds it struck since May. INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP You know, we French stormed Ratis bon: A mile or so away, On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our storming-day; Just as perhaps he mused "My plans Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew Until he reached the mound. Then off there flung in smiling joy, By just his horse's mane, a boy: You looked twice ere you saw his breast "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace "We've got you Ratisbon! "The Marshal's in the market-place, "And you'll be there anon "To see your flag-bird flap his vans "Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his Soared up again like fire. The chief's eye flashed; but presently A film the mother-eagle's eye When her bruised eaglet breathes; "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside SOLILOQUY OF THE SPANISH CLOISTER GRRR-four ego, med flower-pots, do! R-R-R-there go, my heart's abhorrence! If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence, At the meal we sit together: Wise talk of the kind of weather, What's the Latin name for "parsley"? What's the Greek name for Swine's Snout? SOLILOQUY OF THE SPANISH CLOISTER Whew! We'll have our platter burnished, Saint, forsooth! While brown Dolores Blue-black, lustrous, thick like horsehairs, Bright, as 'twere a Barbary corsair's? When he finishes refection, Drinking watered orange-pulp- Oh, those melons! If he's able How go on your flowers? None double? Keep 'em close-nipped on the sly! There's a great text in Galatians, Twenty-nine distinct damnations, If I trip him just a-dying, Sure of Heaven as sure can be, Or, my scrofulous French novel, At the woeful sixteenth print, Or, there's Satan!-one might venture As he'd miss till, past retrieve, We're so proud of! Hy, Zy, Hine... IN A GONDOLA He sings SEND my heart up to thee, all my heart For the stars help me, and the sea bears part; Closer to Venice' streets to leave one space Above me, whence thy face May light my joyous heart to thee its dwellingplace. She speaks Say after me, and try to say My very words, as if each word Came from you of your own accord, In your own voice, in your own way: This woman's heart and soul and brain "Are mine as much as this gold chain "She bids me wear; which" (say again) "I choose to make by cherishing "A precious thing, or choose to fling "Over the boat-side, ring by ring." And yet once more say... no word more! Since words are only words. Give o'er! Unless you call me, all the same, Which if the Three should hear you call, Ask of me, too, command me, blame- He sings Past we glide, and past, and past! |