Ragetty Doll

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1. Barbie Doll This girlchild was born as usual And presented dolls that did pee-pee And miniature GE stoves and irons And wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy. Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said: You have a great big nose and fat legs. She was healthy, tested intelligent, Possessed strong arms and back, Abundant […]...
2. Flowers I will not have the mad Clytie, Whose head is turned by the sun; The tulip is a courtly queen, Whom, therefore, I will shun; The cowslip is a country wench, The violet is a nun; – But I will woo the dainty rose, The queen of everyone. The pea is but a wanton witch, […]...
3. Child Margaret THE CHILD Margaret begins to write numbers on a Saturday morning, the first numbers formed under her wishing child fingers. All the numbers come well-born, shaped in figures assertive for a frieze in a child’s room. Both 1 and 7 are straightforward, military, filled with lunge and attack, erect in shoulder-straps. The 6 and 9 […]...
4. Burning the Doll I am the girl who burned her doll, Who gave her father the doll to burn ” The bride doll I had been given At six, as a Christmas gift, By the same great uncle who once introduced me At my blind second cousin’s wedding To a man who winced, A future Miss America, I’m […]...
5. The doll's wooing The little French doll was a dear little doll Tricked out in the sweetest of dresses; Her eyes were of hue A most delicate blue And dark as the night were her tresses; Her dear little mouth was fluted and red, And this little French doll was so very well bred That whenever accosted her […]...
6. Little miss brag Little Miss Brag has much to say To the rich little lady from over the way And the rich little lady puts out a lip As she looks at her own white, dainty slip, And wishes that she could wear a gown As pretty as gingham of faded brown! For little Miss Brag she lays […]...
7. The Last Supper Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips, And the mouth so mocking gay, A wanton you to the finger-tips, Who break men’s hearts in play; A thing of dust I have striven for, Honour and manhood given for, Headlong to ruin driven for, And this is the last, you say. . . . Drinking your wine […]...
8. The Dolls A doll in the doll-maker’s house Looks at the cradle and bawls: ‘That is an insult to us.’ But the oldest of all the dolls, Who had seen, being kept for show, Generations of his sort, Out-screams the whole shelf: ‘Although There’s not a man can report Evil of this place, The man and the […]...
9. Marie Antoinette They told to Marie Antoinette: “The beggers at your gate Have eyes too sad for tears to wet, And for your pity wait.” But Marie only laughed and said: “My heart they will not ache: If people starve for want of bread Let them eat cake.” The Court re-echoed her bon mot; It rang around […]...
10. In Me, Past, Present, Future meet In me, past, present, future meet To hold long chiding conference. My lusts usurp the present tense And strangle Reason in his seat. My loves leap through the future’s fence To dance with dream-enfranchised feet. In me the cave-man clasps the seer, And garlanded Apollo goes Chanting to Abraham’s deaf ear. In me the tiger […]...
11. Julie Claire Oh Julie Claire was very fair, Yet generous as well, And many a lad of metal had A saucy tale to tell Of sultry squeeze beneath the trees Or hugging in the hay. . . Of love her share had Julie Claire When life was lush and gay. And then the village wealth to pillage […]...
12. Essential Oils are wrung Essential Oils are wrung The Attar from the Rose Be not expressed by Suns alone It is the gift of Screws The General Rose decay But this in Lady’s Drawer Make Summer When the Lady lie In Ceaseless Rosemary...
13. Love's Deity I long to talk with some old lover’s ghost, Who died before the God of Love was born: I cannot think that he, who then loved most, Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn. But since this god produced a destiny, And that vice-nature, Custom, lets it be, I must love her […]...
14. The Key Of The Street “Miss Rosemary,” I dourly said, “Our balance verges on the red, We must cut down our overhead. One of the staff will have to go. There’s Mister Jones, he’s mighty slow, Although he does his best, I know. “A deer old man; I like him well, But age, alas! will always tell. Miss Rosemary, please […]...
15. Plea Secrets, you said, would hold us two apart; You’d have me know of you your least transgression, And so the intimate places of your heart, Kneeling, you bared to me, as in confession. Softly you told of loves that went before- Of clinging arms, of kisses gladly given; Luxuriously clean of heart once more, You […]...
16. A London Plane-Tree Green is the plane-tree in the square, The other trees are brown; They droop and pine for country air; The plane-tree loves the town. Here from my garret-pane, I mark The plane-tree bud and blow, Shed her recuperative bark, And spread her shade below. Among her branches, in and out, The city breezes play; The […]...
17. By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
18. Sonnet VIII: There's Nothing Grieves Me There’s nothing grieves me, but that Age should haste, That in my days I may not see thee old, That where those two clear sparkling eyes are plac’d Only two loop-holes then I might behold; That lovely, arched, ivory, polish’d brow Defac’d with wrinkles that I might but see; Thy dainty hair, so curl’d and […]...
19. The Death Of Marie Toro We’re taking Marie Toro to her home in Père-La-Chaise; We’re taking Marie Toro to her last resting-place. Behold! her hearse is hung with wreaths till everything is hid Except the blossoms heaping high upon her coffin lid. A week ago she roamed the street, a draggle and a slut, A by-word of the Boulevard and […]...
20. Unforgotten I know a garden where the lilies gleam, And one who lingers in the sunshine there; She is than white-stoled lily far more fair, And oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream! I know a garret, cold and dark and drear, And one who toils and toils with tireless pen, Until his brave, sad eyes […]...
21. The Willow Who shall sing a simple ditty about the Willow, Dainty-fine and delicate as any bending spray That dandles high the dainty bird that flutters there to trill a Tremulously tender song of greeting to the May. Bravest, too, of all the trees! none to match your daring, First of greens to greet the Spring and […]...
22. Kin To Sorrow Am I kin to Sorrow, That so oft Falls the knocker of my door Neither loud nor soft, But as long accustomed, Under Sorrow’s hand? Marigolds around the step And rosemary stand, And then comes Sorrow- And what does Sorrow care For the rosemary Or the marigolds there? Am I kin to Sorrow? Are we […]...
23. Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face Be glad your nose is on your face, Not pasted on some other place, For if it were where it is not, You might dislike your nose a lot. Imagine if your precious nose Were sandwiched in between your toes, That clearly would not be a treat, For you’d be forced to smell your feet. […]...
24. The Gardener XLVI: You Left Me You left me and went on your way. I thought I should mourn for you And set your solitary image in my Heart wrought in a golden song. But ah, my evil fortune, time is Short. Youth wanes year after year; the Spring days are fugitive; the frail Flowers die for nothing, and the wise […]...
25. It Is Later Than You Think Lone amid the cafe’s cheer, Sad of heart am I to-night; Dolefully I drink my beer, But no single line I write. There’s the wretched rent to pay, Yet I glower at pen and ink: Oh, inspire me, Muse, I pray, It is later than you think! Hello! there’s a pregnant phrase. Bravo! let me […]...
26. Upstairs I TOO have a garret of old playthings. I have tin soldiers with broken arms upstairs. I have a wagon and the wheels gone upstairs. I have guns and a drum, a jumping-jack and a magic lantern. And dust is on them and I never look at them upstairs. I too have a garret of […]...
27. Vers Demode For one, the amaryllis and the rose; The poppy, sweet as never lilies are; The ripen’d vine, that beckons as it blows; The dancing star. For one, the trodden rosemary and rue; The bowl, dipt ever in the purple stream And, for the other one, a fairer due- Sleep, and no dream....
28. Advice to the Grub Street Verse-writers Ye poets ragged and forlorn, Down from your garrets haste; Ye rhymers, dead as soon as born, Not yet consign’d to paste; I know a trick to make you thrive; O, ’tis a quaint device: Your still-born poems shall revive, And scorn to wrap up spice. Get all your verses printed fair, Then let them […]...
29. Purple Martins IF we were such and so, the same as these, Maybe we too would be slingers and sliders, Tumbling half over in the water mirrors, Tumbling half over at the horse heads of the sun, Tumbling our purple numbers. Twirl on, you and your satin blue. Be water birds, be air birds. Be these purple […]...
30. Small Is The Trust When Love Is Green SMALL is the trust when love is green In sap of early years; A little thing steps in between And kisses turn to tears. Awhile – and see how love be grown In loveliness and power! Awhile, it loves the sweets alone, But next it loves the sour. A little love is none at all […]...
31. My Nose Is Growing Old Yup. A long lazy September look In the mirror Say it’s true. I’m 31 And my nose is growing Old. It starts about 1/2 An inch Below the bridge And strolls geriatrically Down For another inch or so: Stopping. Fortunately, the rest Of the nose is comparatively Young. I wonder if girls Will want me […]...
32. The Bohemian Up in my garret bleak and bare I tilted back on my broken chair, And my three old pals were with me there, Hunger and Thirst and Cold; Hunger scowled at his scurvy mate: Cold cowered down by the hollow grate, And I hated them with a deadly hate As old as life is old. […]...
33. Chanson A ring of gold and a milk-white dove Are goodly gifts for thee, And a hempen rope for your own love To hang upon a tree. For you a House of Ivory, (Roses are white in the rose-bower)! A narrow bed for me to lie, (White, O white, is the hemlock flower)! Myrtle and jessamine […]...
34. Post Office Romance The lady at the corner wicket Sold me a stamp, I stooped to lick it, And on the envelope to stick it; A spinster lacking girlish grace, Yet sweetly sensitive, her face Seemed to en-star that stodgy place. Said I: “I’ve come from o’er the sea To ask you if you’ll marry me – That […]...
35. Chamfort THERE’S Chamfort. He’s a sample. Locked himself in his library with a gun, Shot off his nose and shot out his right eye. And this Chamfort knew how to write And thousands read his books on how to live, But he himself didn’t know How to die by force of his own hand see? They […]...
36. Valentine To The Girl In Black In hand I take this pen of mine To write you, sweet, a valentine; I’d take your dainty hand instead, But-you’re a drawing-I am wed- And that is why, you understand, I only take my pen in hand....
37. Rosemary Beauty and Beauty’s son and rosemary – Venus and Love, her son, to speak plainly – Born of the sea supposedly, At Christmas each, in company, Braids a garland of festivity. Not always rosemary – Since the flight to Egypt, blooming indifferently. With lancelike leaf, green but silver underneath, Its flowers – white originally – […]...
38. The Harper Like a drift of faded blossoms Caught in a slanting rain, His fingers glimpsed down the strings of his harp In a tremulous refrain: Patter and tinkle, and drip and drip! Ah! but the chords were rainy sweet! And I closed my eyes and I bit my lip, As he played there in the street. […]...
39. Infelice Walking swiftly with a dreadful duchess, He smiled too briefly, his face was pale as sand, He jumped into a taxi when he saw me coming, Leaving my alone with a private meaning, He loves me so much, my heart is singing. Later at the Club when I rang him in the evening They said: […]...
40. The Ballad Of A Bachelor Listen, ladies, while I sing The ballad of John Henry King. John Henry was a bachelor, His age was thirty-three or four. Two maids for his affection vied, And each desired to be his bride, And bravely did they strive to bring Unto their feet John Henry King. John Henry liked them both so well, […]...