i was angry whit my friend:
i told my wrath, my wrath did end.
i was angry whit my foe.
i told it not, my wrath did grow.

and i watered it in fears,
night and morning whit my rears:
and i sunned it whit smiles
and whit soft deceitful wiles.

and if grew both day and night,
till it bore an apple bright;
and my foe beheld it shine,
and he knew that it was mine,

and into my garden stole
when the night had vil,d the pole:
in the morning glad i see
my foe outstretch,d beneath the tree.

kagwa hunted the lion.
through bush and forest went his spear.
one day he fonud the skull of a man
and said to it, how did you come here?
the skull opened its mouth and said
talking brought me here.

kagwa hurried home;
went to the king,s chair and spoke;
in the forest i found a talking skull
the king was silent.then he said slowly
never since i was born of my mother
have i seen or heard of a skull which spoke,

the king called out his guards.
two of you go whit him
and find the talking skull;
but if his tale is a lie
and the skull speaks no word.
this kagwa himself must die.

they rode into the forest;
for days and nights they found nothing
at last they saw the skull; kaghwa
said to it: how did yau come here?
the skull said nothing kaghwa implored,
but the skull said nothing.

the guards said kneel down
they killed him with sword andspear.
then the skull opened its mouth;
huntsman,how did you come here?
and the dead man answered:
talking brought me here.

What is this life lf full of care,
we have no time to stand and stare?
no time to stand beneath the boughs
and stare as long as sheep or cows.

no time to see, when woods we pass,
where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

no time to see, in broad daylight,
streams full of stars, like skies at night.

no time to turn at beauty,s glance,
add watch her feet, how they can dance.

no time to wait till her mouth can
enrich that smile her eyes began.

a poor life this if, full of care,
we have no time to stand and stare.

Iwill drain
long draughts of quiet
as a purgation:

remember
twice daily who i am;

will lie o, nights
in the bony arms
of reality and be comforted.