When Billy, the butcher-boy’s meat-chopping instrument Chipped off the tip of his thumb, At that very moment did Lily, the pantry-maid, In for a cutlet come;
It is not wise to dally with despair. It should be promptly taken out to air — Follow the route from here to Railroad Square.
After the shower I went abroad: All the wells in the world were full; Lightning elapsed in the goldenrod, Thunder subsided inside the bull.
Bath-robed, slippered, collar-less, Face unshaven, feet on fender, Groggy now for good I guess,
Betty tried hard to do All that God asked her to, Which, being such and such, Was not so very much, Nor would be much again, Seeing she died at ten.
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,