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!

Word to the Wise

Little lady never pray
A ring of gold to wear
Lest you find it in your nose -
Much to your despair!

Results

I have never asked for much
From this world's anointed:
Strange to say from day to day
I've not been disappointed!

Why?

The lady 'neath the smallest hat
Is often very short and fat;
While "slivers", slick and very tall
Wear cartwheels, like a parasol!

Aspiration

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!

Island Parting (Muskoka)

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!

Photogenic

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!

Salad Bar

There's nothing sadder in this world
Than stale stuffed celery, over-curled!

In The Swim

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"!

Adversary

She stuck her little hat pin in
And gave a practiced twist.
The only thing that saves my pride
On someone with a tougher hide
She'll break her little wrist!

Traitor

You said my face
Was like a mask
A little white unstirred expanse
Where no emotion came to dance.

You said my eyes were secret eyes
That wore a mocking shy disguise.

You said, "No matter how you try
Your mouth betrays you, by and by?"

Sheepskin

An education used to be
A thing of strict gentility
With Classics solid as a rock
And stresses laid on culture talk.
Now . . . when he graduates - a man
Must just make money with élan!

Alien

O I am homesick every day
For places I shall never stay.
For tinkling bells in Samarkand
Where shadows weave a saraband,
And London streets and Paris nights
And O a thousand warm delights
In places strange and far from here
And . . . (naturellement) doubly dear!

Cameo

I can't insult my heart again
By crying over gentlemen.
But rather trot it out to tea
With ladies of gentility,
Whose talk and bread sliced neat and thin
Will lift me from the straits I'm in!

Renegade

Part of me is sad as sad And part of me is glad as glad. Part of me is pure as pure, And part of me . . . I'm not so sure. At odds within myself I be, And blame it on my Family Tree!

Mask

You may make your mouth up
Scarlet as a courtesan's . . .
Thin sophistication
Lurks in scarlet paint
Even masked in satire
Still your eyes betray you
Playing tarnished lady
Funny little saint!

If This be Good …

If this be good
Then it shall last
Far past the rasp Of Sexton's spade . . .
Far past the snow of winter laid
On sleeping garden;
Some part of this will still endure
On Time's wide stream;
Some single sure enchanted moment
Caught up in space will shine forever.
And in my heart I'm very sure
Which little moment will endure!

Disenchanted

They always say, "Be good, sweet child
And let who will … be clever".
But does this course pay dividends?
I answer . . . hardly ever!

Figment

It's snowing feathers to-day.
Bits of maribou
From some very frivolous angel's
Bed-Jacket!

Unbiased Comment

Small furry creatures part with life
To deck each plutocratic wife.
And many a tender throat is wrapt
In silky softness someone trapped.
I don't condemn this savage rite
Nor wince to see the endless sight
Of lovely ladies wrapt in fur . . .
Egad! I only wish I were!

Venomous Woman

She has avaricious fingers
On which there lingers
The bitter scent of almonds.
Poisonous woman!
How her nails
Glitter in the candlelight.
Only her eyes
Suddenly tear you apart.
There is a look in them
Of one who gazed on death
And found it
Beautiful!

Bookshops

Bookshops have a lovely smell
Sweet and sour . . . heaven and hell.
Dust and mould, and something magic,
Laughter, cheek by jowl with tragic
Songs the Muses used to sing . . .
I love bookshops, in the spring!

Powder Room

At every little crystal square
Grave women creatures sit and stare
At what the day has done to mar
Frail personal beauty; puff and jar
And lip rouge tubes are taken out
To dye each thoughtful waiting pout;
No hurried smear . . . a careful rite
Then