'These had stopped seekingBut went on speaking,Have not contributedBut have diluted.These ordered lightBut had no right,These handed onWar and a son.Wishing no harmBut to be warm,These fell asleep.On the burning heap.
10
Private facesIn public placesAre wiser and nicerThan public facesIn private places.
* * *
I'm beginning to lose patienceWith my personal relations:They are not deep,And they are not cheap.
* * *
Thoughts of his own death,like the distant rollof thunder at a picnic.
* * *
Bound to ourselves for life,we must learn how toput up with each other.
* * *
Fate succumbsmany species: one alonejeopardises itself.
* * *
The palm extended in welcome:Look! for youI have unclenched my fist.
* * *
Animal femurs,ascribed to saints who neverexisted, are stillmore holy than portraitsof conquerors who,unfortunately, did.
* * *
Pulling on his socks,he recall that his gran-pawent pop in the act.
* * *
Man must either fall in lovewith Someone or Something,or else fall ill.
* * *
Nothing can be loved too much,but all things can be lovedin the wrong way.
* * *
I'm for freedom because I mistrust the Censor in office,But if I held the job, my! how severe I should be!
* * *
When he is wellShe gives him hell;But she's a brickWhen he is sick.
They wondered why the fruit had been forbidden…
They wondered why the fruit had been forbidden:It taught them nothing new. They hid their pride,But did not listen much when they were chidden:They knew exactly what to do outside.They left. Immediately the memory fadedOf all they known: they could not understandThe dogs now who before had always aided;The stream was dumb with whom they'd always planned.They wept and quarrelled: freedom was so wild.In front maturity as he ascendedRetired like a horizon from the child,The dangers and the punishments grew greater,And the way back by angels was defendedAgainst the poet and the legislator.
At last the secret is out…
At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,The delicious story is ripe to tell to the intimate friend;Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire;Still waters run deep, my dear, there's never smoke without fire.Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sighThere is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up on the cement wall,The scent of the elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall,The croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss,There is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this.
The Chimney Sweepers
The chimney sweepers Wash their faces and forget to wash the neck;The lighthouse keepers Let the lamps go out and leave the ships to wreck;The prosperous baker Leaves the rolls in hundreds in the oven to burn;The undertaker Puts a small note on the coffin saying: "Wait till I return,I've got a date with Love!"And deep-sea divers Cut their boots off and come bubbling to the top;And engine drivers Bring expresses in the tunnel to a stop;The village rector Dashes down the side-aisle half-way through a psalm;The sanitary inspector Runs off with the cover of the cesspool on his arm —To keep his date with Love!
"What's in Your Mind, My Dove, My Coney…"
What's in your mind, my dove, my coney;Do thoughts grow like feathers, the dead end of life;Is it making of love or counting of money,Or raid on the jewels, the plans of a thief?Open your eyes, my dearest dallier;Let hunt with your hands for escaping me;Go through the motions of exploring the familiarStand on the brink of the warm white day.Rise with the wind, my great big serpent;Silence the birds and darken the air;Change me with terror, alive in a moment;Strike for the heart and have me there.
Happy Ending
The silly fool, the silly foolWas sillier in schoolBut beat the bully as a ruleThe youngest son, the youngest sonWas certainly no wise oneYet could surprise one.Or rather, or rather,To be posh, we gatherOne should have no father.Simple to proveThat deeds indeedIn life succeed,But love in love,And tales in talesWhere no one fails.
Foxtrot from a Play
The soldier loves his rifle, The scholar loves his books,The farmer loves his horses, The film star loves her looks.There's love the whole world over Wherever you may be;Some lose their rest for gay Mae West, But you're my cup of tea.Some talk of Alexander And some of Fred Astaire,Some like their heroes hairy Some like them debonair,Some prefer a curate And some an A.D.C.,Some like a tough to treat'em rough, But you're my cup of tea.Some are mad on Airedales And some on Pekinese,On tabby cats or parrots Or guinea pigs or geese.There are patients in asylums Who think that they're a tree;I had an ant who loved a plant, But you're my cup of tea.Some have sagging waistlines And some a bulbous noseAnd some a floating kidney And some have hammer toes,Some have tennis elbow And some have housemaid's knee,And some I know have got B.O., But you're my cup of tea.The blackbird loves the earthworm, The adder loves the sun,The polar bear an iceberg, The elephant a bun,The trout enjoys the river, The whale enjoys the sea,And dogs love most an old lamp-post, But you're my cup of tea.
Musee des Beaux Arts
About suffering they were never wrong,The Old Masters: how well they understoodIts human position; how it takes placeWhile someone else is eatting or opening a window or just walking dully along;How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waitingFor the miraculous birth, there always must beChildren who did not specially want it to happen, skatingOn the pond at the edge of the wood:They never forgotThat even the dreadful martydrom must run its courseAnyhow in a corner, some untidy spotWhere the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horseScratches its innocent behind in a tree.In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns awayQuite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman mayHave heard the splash, the forsaken cry,But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shoneAs it had to on the white legs disappearing into the greenWater; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seenSomething amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,Somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.