We traveled down a grassy road O sweet it was to wander! And parted at the forks of it And this is what I ponder: Would it have been a braver thing For us to stay together, In spite of any single thing . . . Against whatever weather?
When neighbours' cats begin to yowl and yammer You always want to hit them with a hammer! But when your own puts on this spring display You almost always wonder "Should we spay?" ... Or "Shall we add another to our flock And just have kittens, all around the clock"? O isn't it a thing both true and queer That one cat's "calling" falling on the ear Is troublesome . . . a noisome imposition While with your cat it's just his disposition, And all his other graces far outnumber The yearly Spring nocturnal break of slumber!
Little lady never pray A ring of gold to wear Lest you find it in your nose - Much to your despair!
I have never asked for much From this world's anointed: Strange to say from day to day I've not been disappointed!
The lady 'neath the smallest hat Is often very short and fat; While "slivers", slick and very tall Wear cartwheels, like a parasol!
I'd like to be a critic But one who didn't write Then, when I gouged their eyes out They couldn't turn and bite!
How hard it is to say "good-by" to an Island, Rising tall, with its trees out of clear water Tawny in the shallows. Here, white birches bare their shining bones To summer moonlight; And one blue heron lifts himself with terrible beauty Into the evening. I cannot say why Islands do this to me. I only know that putting out into the open gap Bound for the Mainland Is like loosing hands with one you love Too much!
It must be nice to be photogenic; To not have to get in to a panic When you "see the birdie". To just sit there . . . smug . . . While they snap your mug. And to know you'll look like Garbo . . . or Hedy Lamarr In the finished photo. Not . . . Mr. Moto!
There's nothing sadder in this world Than stale stuffed celery, over-curled!
O to be a Petty gal Now that summer's here, With thigh and breast and tawny crest And slick and stream-lined "rear" To lounge against the gilded sands As in a billboard ad While some Adonis, thick of neck, A great athletic cad Leans over one with tender sigh And whispers soft and low "The Company who made your suit Designed these trunks, you know"!