John Hay Poems
|81.||The Surrender Of Spain||1/4/2003|
|82.||The Vision Of Saint Peter||1/4/2003|
|83.||The White Flag||1/4/2003|
|84.||They Will Be Done||1/4/2003|
|85.||Through The Long Days||1/4/2003|
|87.||To One Absent||1/4/2003|
|88.||To The Vesper Sparrow||1/4/2003|
|89.||To Theodore Roosevelt||1/4/2003|
|91.||Twilight On Sandusky Marsh||1/4/2003|
|92.||Two On The Terrace||1/4/2003|
|95.||When The Boys Come Home||1/4/2003|
The Enchanted Shirt
Fytte the First: wherein it shall be shown how the Truth is too mighty a Drug for such as be of feeble temper
The King was sick. His cheek was red
And his eye was clear and bright;
He ate and drank with a kingly zest,
And peacefully snored at night.
But he said he was sick, and a king should know,
And doctors came by the score.
They did not cure him. He cut off their heads
And sent to the schools for more.
At last two famous doctors came,
And one was as poor as a rat,
He had passed his life in studious toil,
And never found time to ...
A vision seen by Plato the divine:
Two shuddering souls come forward, waiting doom
From Rhadamanthus in the nether gloom.
One is a slave hunger has made him pine;
One is a king his arms and jewels shine,
Making strange splendor in the dismal room.
"Hence!" cries the judge, "and strip them! Let them come
With nought to show if they be coarse or fine."
Of garb and body they are swift bereft: