Creeping into their cages.
Here’s to the fairy mice that bite
The elephants fat and wise:
Hidden in the hay-pile while the elephant thunder rages.
Here’s to the scurrying, timid mice
Through whom the proud cause dies.
Here’s to the seeming accident
When all is planned and working,
All the flywheels turning,
Not a vassal shirking.
Here’s to the hidden tunneling thing
That brings the mountain’s groans.
Here’s to the midnight scamps that gnaw,
Gnawing away the thrones.
Here lies a kitten good, who keptA kitten’s proper place.He stole no pantry eatables,Nor scratched the baby’s face.He let the alley-cats alone.He had no yowling vice.His shirt was always laundried well,He freed the house of mice.Until his death he had not causedHis little mistress tears,He wore his ribbon prettily,He washed behind his ears.Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.
Stand now for peace, (though anger breaks your heart),Though naught but smoke and flame and drowning is seen.Lady of Light, speak, though you speak alone,Though your voice may seem as a dove’s in this howling flood,It is heard to-night by every senate and throne.Though the widening battle of millions and millions of menThreatens to-night to…
The King of Yellow Butterflies,The King of Yellow Butterflies,Now orders forth his men.He says ‘The time is almost hereWhen violets bloom again.’Adown the road the fickle routGoes flashing proud and bold,A down the road the fickle routGoes flashing proud and bold,Adown the road the fickle routGoes flashing proud and bold,They shiver by the shallow pools,They…
There are plenty of sweeping, swinging, stinging, gorgeous things to shout about,And knock your old blue devils out.I brag and chant of Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan,Candidate for president who sketched a silver Zion,The one American Poet who could sing outdoors,He brought in tides of wonder, of unprecedented splendor,Wild roses from the plains, that made hearts…
And may it end his wicked dynasty,And may he die in exile and black shame.If there is vengeance in the Heaven of Heavens,What punishment could Heaven devise for theseWho fill the rivers of the world with dead,And turn their murderers loose on all the seas!Put back the clock of time a thousand years,And make our…
Give the engines room.’Louder, fasterThe little band-masterWhips up the fluting,Hurries up the tooting.He thinks that he stands,[*] The reins in his hands,In the fire-chief’s placeIn the night alarm chase.The cymbals whang,The kettledrums bang: —‘Clear the street,Clear the street,Clear the street — Boom, boom.In the evening gloom,In the evening gloom,Give the engines room,Give the engines room.Lest…
