Poems by Hilaire Belloc
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Of three in One and One in three
Who played with a Loaded Gun, and, on missing his Sister was reprimanded by his Father.
I
Because my faltering feet may fail to dare
The nicest child I ever knew
My jolly fat host with your face all a-grin,
Who caroused in the Dirt and was corrected by His Uncle.
Who played with a Dangerous Toy, and suffered a Catastrophe of considerable Dimensions
Who was cursed with the Sin of Pride, and Became a Boot-Black.
Sally is gone that was so kindly,
The Scorpion is as black as soot,
The Chief Defect of Henry King
Heretics all, whoever you may be,
To exalt, enthrone, establish and defend,
Who was frightened by a Passing Motor, and was brought to Reason
The parents of the learned child
I call you bad, my little child,
Is there any reward?
Who ran away from his Nurse and was eaten by a Lion
How did the party go in Portman Square?
Kings live in Palaces, and Pigs in sties,
May all my enemies go to hell,
Remote and ineffectual Don
Lord Finchley tried to mend the Electric Light
Who was too Freely Moved to Tears, and thereby ruined his Political Career
Look, how those steep woods on the mountain's face
Three Graces; and the mother were a Grace,
Of all the gods that gave me all their glories
Torture will give a dozen pence or more
Lump says that Caliban's of gutter breed,
Ill fares the land to hast'ning ills a prey (1)
Who Slammed Doors For Fun And Perished Miserably
I, from a window where the Meuse is wide,
Inviting the influence of a young lady upon the opening year
I
Do you remember an Inn,
The Big Baboon is found upon
When Jesus Christ was four years old
Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine,
When Peter Wanderwide was young
The Dromedary is a cheerful bird:
The moon on the one hand, the dawn on the other:
When people call this beast to mind,
I will not try to reach again,
Be kind and tender to the Frog,
I shoot the Hippopotamus
The Lion, the Lion, he dwells in the Waste,
The species Man and Marmozet
The Microbe is so very small
Most Holy Night, that still dost keep
Pale Ebenezer thought it wrong to fight,
Pelagius lived at Kardanoel
The Scorpion is as black as soot,
When I am living in the Midlands
When we are dead, some Hunting-boy will pass
To-night in million-voiced London I
The tiger, on the other hand,
The Vulture eats between his meals,
The Whale that wanders round the Pole
The world is full of double beds
It was my shame, and now it is my boast,