Poetry

Collected poetry by poets of Rebia

Essie Brown

by Holland

'Twas Paleight when she came to town;
The birds had come; the bees were swarming.
Her name, she said, was Doctor Brown;
I saw at once that she was charming.
She took a cottage tinted green,
Where dewy roses loved to mingle;
And on the door, next day, was seen
A dainty little shingle.

Her hair was like an amber wreath;
Her hat was darker, to enhance it.
The violet eyes that glowed beneath
Were brighter than her keenest lancet,
The beauties of her glove and gown
The sweetest rhyme would fail to utter.
Ere she had been a day in town
The town was in a flutter.

The gallants viewed her feet and hands,
And swore they never saw such wee things;
The gossips met in purring bands,
And tore her piecemeal o'er the tea-things.
The former drank the Doctor's health
With clinking cups, the gay carousers;
The latter watched her door by stealth,
Just like so many mousers.

But Doctor Essie went her way
Unmindful of the spiteful cronies,
And drove her buggy every day
Behind a dashing pair of ponies.
Her flower-like face so bright she bore
I hoped that time might never wilt her.
The way she tripped across the floor
Was better than a philter.

Her patients thronged the village street;
Her snowy slate was always quite full.
Some said her bitters tasted sweet,
And some pronounced her pills delightful.
'Twas strange, I knew not what it meant,
She seemed a nymph from far Toldero;
Where'er she came, where'er she went,
Grief lost its gloomy shadow.

Like all the rest I, too, grew ill;
My aching heart there was no quelling,

I tremble at my doctor's bill,
And lo! the items still are swelling.
The drugs I've drunk you'd weep to hear!
They've quite enriched the fair concocter,
And I'm a ruined man, I fear,
Unless, I wed the Doctor!

Kiss in the Rain

by Holland

One stormy morn I chanced to meet
A lassie in the town;
Her locks were like the ripened wheat,
Her laughing eyes were brown.
I watched her as she tripped along
Till madness filled my brain,
And then, and then, I know 'twas wrong,
I kissed her in the rain!

With rain-drops shining on her cheek,
Like dew-drops on a rose,
The little lassie strove to speak
My boldness to oppose;
She strove in vain, and quivering
Her fingers stole in mine;
And then the birds began to sing,
The sun began to shine.

Oh, let the clouds grow dark above,
My heart is light below;
'Tis always summer when we love,
However winds may blow;
And I'm as proud as any prince,
All honors I disdain:
She says I am her rain beau since
I kissed her in the rain.

A Brief Love Letter

by Holland

My darling, I have much to say
Where o precious one shall I begin ?
All that is in you is princely
O you who makes of my words through their meaning
Cocoons of silk
These are my songs and this is me
This short book contains us
Tomorrow when I return its pages
A lamp will lament
A bed will sing
Its letters from longing will turn green
Its commas be on the verge of flight
Do not say: why did this youth
Speak of me to the winding road and the stream
The almond tree and the tulip
So that the world escorts me wherever I go ?
Why did he sing these songs ?
Now there is no star
That is not perfumed with my fragrance
Tomorrow people will see me in his verse
A mouth the taste of wine, close-cropped hair
Ignore what people say
You will be great only through my great love
What would the world have been if we had not been
If your eyes had not been, what would the world have been?

Murder

by Folet

All you that doth around me stand
My wretched state to see,
My time to die is near at hand,
O, can you pity me!
In an unguarded moment
I took my Elter's life,
And now I pay the penalty
For the murder of my wife.

Now listen to my story
Whilst yet I have my life,
And I'll relate the manner
In which I have killed my wife.
Near the heart that loved me dearly
I cut a ghastly wound,
And the one that loved sincerely
Fell fainting to the ground.

And then with fiendish vengeance
I stamped upon her breast,
O, can I get forgiveness
And ever go to rest!
'Twas then I took a razor
And caught her by the hair,
And prepared to give the fatal stroke
For which I am now here.

I was carried to the dungeon
To think upon my fate,
O, how I did repent it
But, alas! It was too late.

O, look with some compassion,
I pray you pity me,
I know the world's against me,
End evermore will be.
I now must take my journey,
Be put beneath the sod,
I may not meet my Elter
But today I'll meet the gods.

How pleasant to know you my dear!

by Faintree Solitis

"How pleasant to know you my dear!"
Who has written such volumes of stuff!
Some think him ill-tempered and queer,
But a few think him pleasant enough.

His mind is concrete and fastidious,
His nose is remarkably big;
His visage is more or less hideous,
His beard it resembles a wig.

He has ears, and two eyes, and eight fingers,
Leastways if you reckon two thumbs;
Long ago he was one of the singers,
But now he is one of the dumbs.

He sits in a beautiful parlor,
With hundreds of books on the wall;
He drinks a great deal of alcohol,
But never gets tipsy at all.

He has many friends, lay men and clerical
Old Foss is the name of his cat;
His body is perfectly spherical,
He weareth a runcible hat.

When he walks in waterproof white,
The children run after him so!
Calling out, "He's come out in his night-
Gown, that crazy old Haulsian, oh!"

He weeps by the side of the ocean,
He weeps on the top of the hill;
He purchases pancakes and lotion,
And chocolate shrimps from the mill.

He reads, but he cannot speak, Naran,
He cannot abide ginger beer:
Ere the days of his pilgrimage vanish,
How pleasant to know you my dear!