Every morning the maple leaves.
Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts
from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big
and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out
You will be alone always and then you will die.
So maybe I wanted to give you something more than a catalog
of non-definitive acts,
something other than the desperation.
I sing of simple people and the hardier virtues, by Associated Stuffed Shirts & Company, Incorporated, 358 West 42d Street, New York, brochure enclosed
of Christ on the Cross, by a visitor to Calvary, first class
art deals with eternal, not current verities, revised from last week's Sunday supplement
guess what we mean, in The Literary System, and a thousand noble answers to a thousand empty questions, by a patriot who needs the dough.
Little Arabella Miller
Found a furry caterpillar
First it climbed upon her mother
Then upon her baby brother
"Ugh" said Arabella Miller
"Take away that caterpillar!"
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep,
And doesn’t know where to find them.
Leave them alone and they'll come home,
Bringing their tails behind them.
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep,
And doesn’t know where to find them.
Leave them alone and they'll come home,
Bringing their tails behind them.
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep,
And doesn’t know where to find them.
Leave them alone and they'll come home,
Bringing their tails behind them.
Little Boy Blue,
Come blow your horn,
The sheep's in the meadow,
The cow's in the corn;
Where is that boy
Who looks after the sheep?
Under the haystack
Fast asleep.
Will you wake him?
Oh no, not I,
For if I do
He will surely cry.
Think of the storm roaming the sky uneasily
like a dog looking for a place to sleep in,
listen to it growling.
Think how they must look now, the mangrove keys
lying out there unresponsive to the lightning
in dark, coarse-fibred families,
where occasionally a heron may undo his head,
shake up his feathers, make an uncertain comment
when the surrounding water shines.
Think of the boulevard and the little palm trees
all stuck in rows, suddenly revealed
as fistfuls of limp fish-skeletons.
Little Jack Horner
Sat in the corner,
Eating a Christmas pie;
He put in his thumb,
And pulled out a plum,
And said 'What a good boy am I!'
Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating of curds and whey;
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.
Little Poll Parrot
Sat in his garret
Eating toast and tea;
A little brown mouse
Jumped into the house,
And stole it all away.
Little Robin Redbreast
Sat upon a rail;
Niddle noble went his head,
Widdle waggle went his tail.
Little Robin Redbreast
Came to visit me;
This is what he whistled,
Thank you for my tea.
