The Mermaid

'Twas Friday morn when we set

sail,
And we had not got far from
land,
When the Captain, he spied a
lovely mermaid,
With a comb and a glass in her
hand.

Oh the ocean waves may roll,

And the stormy winds may blow,
While we poor sailors go skipping
aloft
And the land lubbers lay down
below, below, below
And the land lubbers lay down
below.
Then up spoke the Captain of our
gallant ship,
And a jolly old Captain was he;
"I have a wife in Salem town,
But tonight a widow she will be."

Then up spoke the Cook of our

gallant ship,

And a greasy old Cook was he;

"I care more for my kettles and
my pots,
Than I do for the roaring of the
sea."

Then up spoke the Cabin-boy of

our gallant ship,
And a dirty little brat was he;
"I have friends in Boston town
That don't care a ha' penny for
me."

Then three times 'round went our

gallant ship,
And three times 'round went she,
And the third time that she went
'round
She sank to the bottom of the sea.

Hiawatha's Departure from

The Song of Hiawatha
By the shore of Gitchie
Gumee,
By the shining Big-SeaWater,
At the doorway of his
wigwam,
In the pleasant Summer
morning,
Hiawatha stood and
waited.
All the air was full of
freshness,
All the earth was bright
and joyous,
And before him through the
sunshine,
Westward toward the
neighboring forest
Passed in golden swarms
the Ahmo,
Passed the bees, the honey-

makers,
Burning, singing in the
sunshine.
Bright above him shown
the heavens,
Level spread the lake
before him;
From its bosom leaped the
sturgeon,
Aparkling, flashing in the
sunshine;
On its margin the great
forest
Stood reflected in the
water,
Every tree-top had its
shadow,
Motionless beneath the
water.
From the brow of
Hiawatha
Gone was every trace of
sorrow,
As the fog from off the

water,
And the mist from off the
meadow.
With a smile of joy and
triumph,
With a look of exultation,
The Passionate Shepherd to
His Love
Come live with me and be my
love,
And we will all the pleasures
prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and
fields,
Woods or steepy mountain
yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their
flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose
falls
Melodious birds sing
madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of
roses

As of one who in a vision

Sees what is to be, but is
not,
Stood and waited
Hiawatha.

And a thousand fragrant

posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of
myrtle;
A gown made of the finest
wool
Which from our pretty lambs
we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of th purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber
studs:
And if these pleasures may thee
move,
Come live with me and be my
love.
The shepherds' swains shall

dance and sing

For thy delight each May
morning:
If these delights thy mind may
move,
Then live with me and be my
love.
An example of an Idyll and
Pastoral Poetry.

O thou my lovely boy

O thou, my lovely boy,

who in thy power
Dost hold Time's fickle
glass his fickle hour;
Who hast by waning
grown, and therein
show'st
Thy lovers withering, as
thy sweet self grow'st.
If Nature, sovereign
mistress over wrack,

As thou goest onwards,

still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this
purpose, that her skill
May Time disgrace, and
wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou
minion of her pleasure!
She may detain, but not

still keep her treasure.

Her audit, though
delayed, answered must
be,
And her quietus is to
render thee.
O thou my lovely boy
Sonnet 126
William Shakespeare

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provenal song, and sunburnt
mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world
unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never
known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other
groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray
hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin,
and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Ode To A Nightingale
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness
pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,

Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;

But here there is no light,

Save what from heaven is with the breezes
blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding
mossy ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer
eves.
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a mused
rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in
vain
To thy high requiem become a sod.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for
home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the
foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:--Do I wake or sleep?

The Epitaph
Here rests his
head upon the lap
of Earth
A youth to Fortune
and to Fame
unknown.
Fair Science
frowned not on his
humble birth,
And Melacholy
marked him for
her own.
Large was his
bounty, and his
soul sincere,

Heaven did a
recompense as
largely send:
He gave to Misery
all he had, a
tear,wishd)

disclose,
Or draw his
frailties from their
dread abode
(There they alike
in trembling hope
repose),
The bosom of his
Father and his
God.

a friend.
No farther seek
his merits to

A Lame Beggar
I am unable, yonder beggar cries,
To stand, or move; if he say true, he lies

Examples of Limericks
There was an Old Man
of Vienna,
Who lived upon
Tincture of Senna;
When that did not
agree,
He took Camomile Tea,
That nasty Old Man of
Vienna.
There was an Old
Person whose habits,
Induced him to feed
upon rabbits;
When he'd eaten
eighteen,
He turned perfectly
green,
Upon which he
relinquished those
habits.
There was an Old Man
of the West,
Who wore a pale plum-

coloured vest;
When they said, 'Does
it fit?'
He replied, 'Not a bit!'
That uneasy Old Man of
the West.
There was an Old Man
in a tree,
Who was horribly bored
by a Bee;
When they said, 'Does
it buzz?'
He replied, 'Yes, it
does!'
'It's a regular brute of a
Bee!'
There was an Old Man
in a boat,
Who said, 'I'm afloat,
I'm afloat!'
When they said, 'No!
you ain't!'
He was ready to faint,
That unhappy Old Man

in a boat.

None is travelling
None is travelling
Here along this way but
I,
This autumn evening.
The first day of the year:
thoughts come - and
there is loneliness;
the autumn dusk is here.

to time and bring to men a

chance to rest
from looking at the
moon.
In the cicada's cry
There's no sign that can
foretell
How soon it must die.

An old pond
A frog jumps in Splash!

Poverty's child he starts to grind the

rice,
and gazes at the moon.

Lightening Heron's cry

Stabs the darkness

Won't you come and see

loneliness? Just one leaf
from the kiri tree.

Clouds come from time

Temple bells die out.

The fragrant blossoms

remain.
A perfect evening!

Listen Everyone
Listen, everyone! I have lost my girl
For he who finds her, on my soul
Even though she is fair and kindly
I give her up heartily
Without raising a stink at all.
This girl knows her graces well
God knows, she loves and is loyal
For heavens sake, let him keep her
secretly
Listen, everyone! I have lost my girl
Look after her well, this pearl
Let no one hurt or wound her
For by heaven, this pretty
Is sweetness itself to everybody
Woe is me! I cry to the world
Listen, everyone! I have lost my girl

Dreams
Dreams tend to lilt
Today theyre here
morrow theyre killed
Ive seen some wilt
Despite a tear
Dreams tend to lilt
If they are built
But not kept near
morrow theyre killed
They can be spilt
With just a jeer
Dreams tend to lilt
But have no guilt
Nor feel the drear
morrow theyre killed
A dream can tilt
A dream can blear

Dreams tend to lilt

morrow theyre killed
Carousel Ride

Painted ponies go round and round

on a carousel at the county fair.
A mom lifts her young son high into the air,,
then sits him on the saddle of a pony he has
found.
The air's redolent with popcorn, and calliope
sound.
Bridles glisten green and gold; lacquered
faces smile and stare.
Painted ponies go round and round,
on a carousel at the county fair.
Child marvels that his pony's feet never
touch the ground.
He loves gliding up and down as the wind
ruffles through his hair.
Unbridled joy is a treasure to share;
laughter and giggles everywhere abound.
Painted ponies go round and round.

A Word To Husbands
To keep your marriage brimming
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you're wrong, admit it;
Whenever you're right, shut up.
and kisses it

A Tragedy in Five Acts on the

with passionate lips

dying to speak

River
Silent winds whisper
omens of malice
and threatening despair
into her ears
as she waits
dragging her pointed toes
through the water,
without making splashes,
humming love songs
she heard on the car radio.
Lying on the car roof,
staring at the stars,
he lies
cradling his one love close,
together as one being,
a smile spread across her face
larger than ever before
as she takes her lover's hand

of devotion.
Tunes fill her head,
dancing in circles
like children holding hands
as she waits by the riverside
watching the dragonflies
silently fly away into the dark,
and she's deafened
by the void that surrounds her,
only open to the past
that left too long ago.
He lies in the grass
looking up at the night sky
hand in hand with his lover
as they talk about nothing,
smiles larger than ever before
spread across their faces,
and all he knows
is the present,

and not the past he left behind,

that now rests beneath her feet

waiting on a bank

because she's grown tired.

to be spirited away

And she moves with the current into

into eternity.

the fog, away from the bank, and

A hand reaches out to hers

disappears

and she sighs,

like nothing was ever there.

taking hold of this new entity

and stepping out onto the platform

I Think Of You - At The Edge - 3

A reflection of the coloured pencil drawn sky
skates on the glass smooth surface below it.
While a rebellious group of shades take their positions
on a glorious stage to express themselves artistically and
I...
I think of you
Wisps of clouds shaped like a palm leaf
fan the winds that stoke the fire
of a randomly sketched sunset.
I...
I think of you
The cool of an ocean breeze
travels the shadows of this low lit evening.
Caresses my skin like the essence of romance.
Enthralled by the allure of a candle lit sky,
I...
I think of you...
Our French Bakery early mornings.
Caf au lait and croissants.
Our freesia soaked baths.
Your mink soft body.
Its milk and honey scent.
As I fall off the edge of the world,
I...I think of you.

O captain
O CAPTAIN! My Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weatherd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! Heart! Heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise upfor you the flag is flungfor you the bugle trills; 10
For you bouquets and ribbond wreathsfor you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! Dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
Youve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchord safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Plays by Oscar Wilde

JACK Worthing, who lives in the country, pretends to have a younger brother, Ernest,
whose escapades frequently call Jack to London. Algernon Moncrieff pretends to have
an invalid friend, "Bunbury," whose attacks call Algernon into the country whenever

there is a distasteful social function in prospect. This activity Algernon refers to as

"Bunburying."
Jack has managed to hide from Algernon the location of his country place and the
existence of an attractive ward, Cecily Cardew. In Algernon's bachelor flat at the tea
hour, Jack confesses he has come to town to propose to Algernon's cousin,
Gwendolyn, who knows him as "Ernest." Algernon refuses his help unless Jack
explains the inscription on his cigarette case which Algernon has found. Thus Cecily's
existence is revealed, but Jack stubbornly refuses to reveal her whereabouts.
Gwendolyn accepts Jack, confessing she has always felt that a man named "Ernest"
was her fate. During a subsequent catechism by Gwendolyn's mother, Lady Bracknell,
Jack gives his country address which Algernon takes down with the intention of going
"Bunburying" during Jack's absence from home. When Lady Bracknell learns that
Jack's identity dates from the discovery of a baby in a large black handbag in Victoria
station she refuses to consent for the marriage.
Cecily, alone in the country with her governess, Miss Prism, is agreeably surprised at
the appearance of Algernon in the guise of the much-discussed "Ernest." The young
couple lose no time in becoming engaged for, Cecily admits, the name "Ernest" has
always fascinated her. When Jack returns unexpectedly to announce "Ernest's" sudden
death in Paris, he is disagreeably surprised to learn that "Ernest" is at the very moment
in the house.
While Jack and Algernon are separately arranging with the rector for a rechristening,
Gwendolyn arrives. The discovery of Gwendolyn and Cecily that they both seem to be
engaged to "Ernest Worthing" results in a strained situation. The appearance of both
young men clarifies the matter of engagements, but also reveals that neither is named
"Ernest." When the girls learn that their fiancs had been about to be rechristened for
their sakes, they forgive the deception.
With the arrival of Lady Bracknell the question of consent again comes up. Lady
Bracknell is quite willing that Algernon shall marry Cecily and her fortune. Jack,
however, as Cecily's guardian, refuses his consent unless Lady Bracknell permits his
marriage to Gwendolyn. The appearance of Miss Prism who is recognized by Lady
Bracknell, results in the identification of Jack Worthing as Algernon's lost elder
brother, Ernest, thus settling matters to everyone's satisfaction.

Secret of the Mortician

The Secret of the Mortician
Dead, but I got eyes
Prepares my body at the morgue
Opens the chest
Drains the blood from its nudity
Admires my body before it decays
After The process of embalming
His hands run all over
I'm still dead
He's satisfied
The next day
Writes an outstanding obituary
I sit on display