after the rain

The Haughty Snail-King
by Vachel Lindsay
Twelve snails went walking after night.
They’d creep an inch or so,
Then stop and bug their eyes
And blow.
Some folks . . . are . . . deadly . . . slow.
Twelve snails went walking yestereve,
Led by their fat old king.
They were so dull their princeling had
No sceptre, robe or ring—
Only a paper cap to wear
When nightly journeying.This king-snail said: “I feel a thought
Within. . . . It blossoms soon. . . .
O little courtiers of mine, . . .
I crave a pretty boo. . . .
Oh, yes . . . (High thoughts with effort come
And well-bred snails are ALMOST dumb.)
“I wish I had a yellow crown
As glistering . . . as . . . the moon.”

Hamlet Off-Stage: Snail Peels Off
by D. C. Berry
For quick mental hygiene, the snail’s my white
mobile clinic, Dr. Hoodoo inside.
Seriously. The snail’s my man. He’s shy,
shows speedy patience and plays safe, keeps his
hard hat on should a curve come on too fast.
And paves his road in case he must return.
That’s not timid. That’s prudently Roman.
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