THE BALLOON OF THE MIND

Hands, do what you're bid;

Bring the balloon of the mind

That bellies and drags in the wind

Into its narrow shed.

[67]

[67]

TO A SQUIRREL AT KYLE-NA-GNO

Come play with me;

Why should you run

Through the shaking tree

As though I'd a gun

To strike you dead?

When all I would do

Is to scratch your head

And let you go.

[68]

[68]

ON BEING ASKED FOR A WAR POEM

I think it better that in times like these

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