Would that the lying rulers of the world

The Moon’s a snowball, melted downA dozen times a year.Yet rolled again in hot JulyWhen all my days are doneAnd cool to greet the weary eyeAfter the scorching sun.The moon’s a piece of winter fairRenewed the year around,Behold it, deathless and unstained,Above the grimy ground!It rolls on high so brave and whiteWhere the clear air-rivers…

What is my sea? A bottle of ink.Where do I go? To heaven again.What do I eat ? The amaranth flower,While the winds through the jungles think old tunes.I eat that flower with ivory spoonsWhile the winds through the jungles play old tunes;The songs the angels used to singWhen heaven was not old autumn, but…

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…

Chasing the deacon who stole the cow.He runs and tumbles, he tumbles and runs.He sees big white men with dogs and guns.He falls down flat. He turns to stare—No cats, no dogs, and no men there.But black shadows, grey shadows, green shadows come.The wind says, ‘Miau!’ and the rain says, ‘Hum!’He goes straight home. He…

IPeace-of-the-Heart, my own for long,Whose shining hair the May-winds fan,Making it tangled as they can,A mystery still, star-shining yet,Through ancient ages known to meAnd now once more reborn with me: —This is the tale of the Tiger TreeA hundred times the height of a man,Lord of the race since the world began.This is my city…

And if no Hindu he can get,The lion-family is upset.He cuffs his wife and bites her earsTill she is nearly moved to tears.Then some explorer finds the denAnd all is family peace again.