有一次我心情极佳
    写了几行诗，
以爲人们照常会说
    它们好极了。

这几行诗太古怪了，非常古怪，
    我自己都笑得要死；
虽然总的来说，
    我还是个头脑清醒的人。

我叫来我的仆人，
    他真是太好了，
一个四肢强壮的人，
    却来照顾我这样的瘦高个！
我喊道，“把这几行诗选去排版”。
    而且以我幽默的口气
补充说(随便开个玩笑)，
    “会有魔鬼向你付钱。”

他拿走稿纸，我观察着，
    看见他往里偷看，
看到第一行，
    他的脸就笑开了。
他看到第二行就笑得裂开嘴，
    而且裂得很大很大。
他看到第三行，
    我开始听到他咯咯地笑。

看到第四行，他的笑声大如吼，
    看到第五行，他笑裂了束腰带。
看到第六行，他笑掉五颗钮扣，
    而且突然摔倒在地，

十天十夜我没合眼，
    看护着那个可怜人，
从此我再也不敢尽情写
    这麽古怪有趣的诗。

老铁壁

啊，撕下她破烂的国旗！
    它已高高飘扬了很久，
许多人都看到
    那面旗在天空飘扬，
旗下曾响过战斗的呼喊，
    进发过大炮的怒吼，──
海洋上空的流星
    将不再扫过云层。
她的甲板曾爲英雄的鲜血染红，
    被征服的敌人曾在那儿跪下，
当风匆匆吹过波涛，
    底下翻起白色浪花，
再也感觉不到胜利者的脚步，
    再也无法知道被征服者跪下的消息：──
岸边的鱼鹰将向
    海上的雄鹰发动攻击！

哦，她破烂的废船
    最好沈到海底；
她雷鸣的巨响震撼了巨大的深渊，
    她的坟墓应该在那里；
将她那面圣旗钉到桅杆上，
    将每一面破旧的帆都升起，
把她交给风暴之神，
    交给闪电和骤雨！

The Height of the Ridiculous

I wrote some lines once on a time

   In wondrous merry mood,

And thought, as usual, men would say

   They were exceeding good.

They were so queer, so very queer,

    I laughed as I would die;

Albeit, in the general way,

   A sober man am I.

I called my servant, and he came;

    How kind it was of him

To mind a slender man like me,

    He of the mighty limb!

"These to the printer," I exclaimed,

    And, in my humorous way,

I added (as a trifling jest),

    "There'll be the devil to pay."

He took the paper, and I watched,

    And saw him peep within;

At the first line he read, his face

    Was all upon the grin.

He read the next; the grin grew broad,

   And shot from ear to ear;

He read the third; a chuckling noise

   I now began to hear.

The fourth: he broke into a roar;

    The fifth; his waistband split;

The sixth; he burst five buttons off,

    And tumbled in a fit.

Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye

    I watched that wretched man,

And since, I never dare to write

   As funny as I can.

Old Ironsides

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!

    Long has it waved on high,

And many an eye has danced to see

    That banner in the sky;

Beneath it rung the battle shout,

    And burst the cannon's roar;--

The meteor of the ocean air

    Shall sweep the clouds no more.

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,

   Where knelt the vanquished foe,

When winds were hurrying o'er the flood,

    And weaves were white below,

No more shall feel the victor's tread,

    Or know the conquered knee;--

The harpies of the shore shall pluck

    The eagle of the sea!

Oh, better that her shattered hulk

   Should sink beneath the wave;

Her thunders shook the mighty deep,

   And there should be her grave;

Nail to the mast her holy flag,

    Set every threadbare sail,

And give her to the god of storms,

    The lightning and the gale!