Stevie Smith
I Do Not Speak
I do not ask for mercy for understanding for peace And in these heavy days I do not ask for release I do not ask that suffering shall cease. I do not pray to
Mother, Among The Dustbins
Mother, among the dustbins and the manure I feel the measure of my humanity, an allure As of the presence of God, I am sure In the dustbins, in the manure, in the cat
Conviction (iii)
The shadow was so black, I thought it was a cat, But once in to it I knew it No more black Than a shadow’s back. Illusion is a freak Of mind; The cat’s
Drugs Made Pauline Vague
Drugs made Pauline vague. She sat one day at the breakfast table Fingering in a baffled way The fronds of the maidenhair plant. Was it the salt you were looking for dear? Said Dulcie,
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
Deeply Morbid
Deeply morbid deeply morbid was the girl who typed the letters Always out of office hours running with her social betters But when daylight and the darkness of the office closed about her Not
The Reason
My life is vile I hate it so I’ll wait awhile And then I’ll go. Why wait at all? Hope springs alive, Good may befall I yet may thrive. It is because I can’t
Tenuous And Precarious
Tenuous and Precarious Were my guardians, Precarious and Tenuous, Two Romans. My father was Hazardous, Hazardous Dear old man, Three Romans. There was my brother Spurious, Spurious Posthumous, Spurious was Spurious, Was four Romans.
Edmonton, thy cemetery
Edmonton, thy cemetery In which I love to tread Has roused in me a dreary thought For all the countless dead, Ah me, the countless dead. Yet I believe that one is one And
In The Night
I longed for companionship rather, But my companions I always wished farther. And now in the desolate night I think only of the people i should like to bite.
Freddy
Nobody knows what I feel about Freddy I cannot make anyone understand I love him sub specie aet ernitaties I love him out of hand. I don’t love him so much in the restaurants
Sunt Leones
The lions who ate the Christians on the sands of the arena By indulging native appetites played was now been seen a Not entirely negligible part In consolidating at the very start The position
Conviction (i)
Christ died for God and me Upon the crucifixion tree For God a spoken Word For me a Sword For God a hymn of praise For me eternal days For God an explanation For
Our Bog Is Dood
Our Bog is dood, our Bog is dood, They lisped in accents mild, But when I asked them to explain They grew a little wild. How do you know your Bog is dood My
Bag-Snatching In Dublin
Sisely Walked so nicely With footsteps so discreet To see her pass You’d never guess She walked upon the street. Down where the Liffey waters’ turgid flood Churns up to greet the ocean-driven mud,