THE MILKMAN
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Early in the morning, when the dawn is on the roofs, You hear his wheels come rolling, you hear his horse's hoofs; You hear the bottles clinking, and then he drives away: You yawn in bed, turn over, and begin another day! The old-time dairy maids are dear to every poet's heart— I'd rather be the dairy man and drive a little cart, And bustle round the village in the early morning blue, And hang my reins upon a hook, as I've seen Casey do. |
IN HONOUR OF TAFFY TOPAZ
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Taffy, the topaz-coloured cat, Thinks now of this and now of that, But chiefly of his meals. Asparagus, and cream, and fish, Are objects of his Freudian wish; What you don't give, he steals. His gallant heart is strongly stirred By clink of plate or flight of bird, He has a plumy tail; At night he treads on stealthy pad As merry as Sir Galahad A-seeking of the Grail. His amiable amber eyes Are very friendly, very wise; Like Buddha, grave and fat, He sits, regardless of applause, And thinking, as he kneads his paws, What fun to be a cat! |
THE CEDAR CHEST
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Her mind is like her cedar chest Wherein in quietness do rest The wistful dreamings of her heart In fragrant folds all laid apart. There, put away in sprigs of rhyme Until her life's full blossom-time, Flutter (like tremulous little birds) Her small and sweet maternal words. |