All one needs to say Is, “Where’s the little kitty? . . . The one you loved so well, That wore a silver bell? . . .
Maura has come to the rubber age: Turned, so to put it, a rubber page; Wants to be rolling a rubber ball,
Two feet long and one foot wide: But no more Maura on either side! No more Maura above, below — Maura begins at that downy hair,
The metaphysics of a dimple Is rather more involved than simple.
The owl is meant to emphasize Especially the art of eyes. The elephant’s long rubber hose Insists upon the art of nose.
In my figurative furbelow, figurative frill, I was sitting one evening, as old poets will, And unrolling a parchment and inking a quill,
A shower of silver, A shower of gold: But you cannot guess why Till the riddle is told.
Snails obey the Holy Will of God slowly. From Boundaries
On my way to the coops, On my way from the pens, As I was going over From the pigs to the hens,
Rabbit’s eyes are pink, And they are, I think, Less to watch with than to wink With: they are ornamental:
God to some Sticky stuff Not yet alive In a hive, Said,
Out in the bay arose a whale; And in a flash from surf to sight, From far-off wave to steamer-rail, A whale a millionth of its size
Perfume and petal Are qualities That test love’s mettle With too much ease.
I saw a donkey at a fair When sounds and songs were in the air; But he no note interpreted Of what the people sang or said.