Poetry

The Universal Tavern

I PRAY you, all

You tiny things That creep and crawl And flit on wings, That flute and hum, In satins drest, Think not I come But as your guest.

You grasshoppers Whose song is heard On evening airs : You ladybird In crimson blouse, Fly not, nor fret ; Unless your house Is burning yet.

You silvery shrews Seek not your holes : What news, what news, You velvet voles ?

Nay, fear him not Who would find out Your ways, and what You think about.

Sweet Jenny Wren Where will you flit At evening when The stars are lit ?

Flute, atom ! Tell How you employ Star-hours—as well, Green frog, ahoy You secret bats That haunt old oaks, In hooded hats And russet cloaks : Laborious ants That seem so wise, What are your wants ? And all you flies, In falling dews, On flowery downs, Adonis blues And meadow browns ?

You whorled snails, And shells of the sea— What tales, what tales Have you for me ?

All watery forms, Newts, gnats untold, And dim land-worms With lamps of gold : All bees : all moths On silver wings, Mystic as Goths And crowned like kings, Monk-moths in cowls Whose chant ascends : You smalls fowles,

Dan Chaucer's friends

On twig, in air,

Pipe, chirrup, crow—

That I may share Your dreams, and know Your wisdom's pearls,

Your dancing joys— Like tiny girls,

Like tiny boys, H A MI SR ATACLAIIEN.