Xavier’s vexing X-ray eyes
Would certainly make him an excellent spy.
He’s a wizard at poker and hide-and-go-seek;
He can tell what a squirrel has stuffed in its cheek;
He can locate the needle in any haystack;
He knows what you’re hiding there, behind your back.
And he sees lots of things that he isn’t supposed…
But I’d better not say any more about those.
One ought not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediment. But then again,
Let us be reasonable, dear. I find,
Though minds be true, still bodies may present
Some difficulties – and, in point of fact,
Impediments there are, though you admit
Them not. Let’s not mince words: putting all tact
Aside, we both are freaks: I am a midget;
You, my love, are grossly fat. That’s just
The way of it, there is no blame. However,
After all our trials, I think you must
Admit some things just can’t be done, whatever
Minds may think of it. With this in view,
My body’s left you, though my mind’s still true.
Oh do not mind me if I stare
My staring eyes are blind;
And too I prey on wicked folk
So you need pay no mind.
Please stay!
Cried the daisies
In their summer guise.
But the bee
Persuaded me
To do otherwise.
The arches found the city which the river underlies.
The tall cathedral towers are aspiring to the skies.
We would all be very happy in that geometric land
Some above and some below, but each according to a plan.
The rich are the deserving and the poor accept their lot
And the rich have mausoleums and the poor will get a plot.
Meanwhile, what symmetry and balance we have bought!
Did anybody notice that the pieces fit so neatly
You could jumble up the city once and fill it in completely?
You could jumble up the city like a set of building blocks
Collect them when they’ve fallen and return them to their box.
No mere cathedral is complete
for all it has a floor, walls, and a roof.
Behind me! — I would see
the world just as it is in truth.
I turn my ass toward faith,
toward teachings without proof.
Always on time, is something I’m.
Always seemly, yes, extremely.
And polite? Oh, very, quite.
Don’t crack knuckles, won’t stamp feet.
My room, my handwriting, both are neat.
Never cry unless I’m hurt.
Never ask for more dessert.
Tie my shoes before I’m told.
Eat my food before it’s cold.
Respect old people ‘cause they’re old.
Ever lie? Oh, no – not I!
Little one, what have you heard, and how?
That grave-stones cluster on the hill’s cold brow
and wanderers are lost without a sound
beneath the moon, when the hard winds blow.
I hid here in the grass, and hide here now.
Little one, what have you seen, and where?
The dead and deathless wail upon the air;
the living will not go abroad for fear,
but build their fires up high, and sit, and stare
into the dark. I have been there.
Little one, what meaning do you find?
I wish to live, to live! Death is not kind.
The dying do not leave this world behind.
Worm, worm, worry-wart
Wriggling underground.
What should worms be worried for,
Hiding safe and sound?
If it were not for just one thing
They’d all be happy fellows:
But here’s what really worries worms:
They haven’t any elbows.
“Yes, yes, yes!” yells young Yvonne,
Yelling loudly all day long
Yelling, yowling, yelping, howling,
In the kitchen, on the lawn,
Caterwauling in the hallway,
“Yes, yes, yes!” from dusk till dawn;
Yelling till her mother wonders,
“How long can this noise go on?”
Yelling till her father tells her,
“Yes, all right! Go on, Yvonne!
Do what you wish, do what you want to,
Only please stop yelling so!”
But Yvonne cries, “No, no, no!”
Bag of Anything 