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32. Unrequited Love. You loved me!— So you told me./ Who was it who loved first?/ When I loved, you did not— /And now that you do, I do not.
32. Unrequited Love. You loved me!— So you told me./ Who was it who loved first?/ When I loved, you did not— /And now that you do, I do not.

32. Unrequited Love. You loved me!— So you told me./ Who was it who loved first?/ When I loved, you did not— /And now that you do, I do not.

Alternate Titles
  • 100 Original Woodcuts by Posada
Artist (Mexican, 1852 - 1913)
Date1947
ClassificationsPrint
MediumColor woodcut
Dimensions3 1/8 x 2 3/4 in.
Credit LineGift of Jack Lord
Object number1973.54
38. Song. Music and a good throat!/ He who sings drives care away/ (Such to me befell)./ Sing also of sorrow/ When you cannot cry.
38. Song. Music and a good throat!/ He who sings drives care away/ (Such to me befell)./ Sing also of sorrow/ When you cannot cry.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
63. Chanticler. Don’t you wish you were a rooster/ Who has a lot of hens?/ With each her little chickens—/ And not one do you support?
63. Chanticler. Don’t you wish you were a rooster/ Who has a lot of hens?/ With each her little chickens—/ And not one do you support?
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
86. Monopolist. I raised the price of beans;/ I cornered the market on corn./ And where do you want to put/ The grim memories of me.
86. Monopolist. I raised the price of beans;/ I cornered the market on corn./ And where do you want to put/ The grim memories of me.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
6. Late Reveler. Little lamp that lights my street,/ Now that I am seeing double,/ Why is it you are hiding?/ Or is it you who blocks my way?
6. Late Reveler. Little lamp that lights my street,/ Now that I am seeing double,/ Why is it you are hiding?/ Or is it you who blocks my way?
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
23. Riddle. I am a fish; I, a helmet;/ I free you from a squall./ To the first, I lose my head;/ With the third, I insure myself;/ And the second fills me with loathing.
23. Riddle. I am a fish; I, a helmet;/ I free you from a squall./ To the first, I lose my head;/ With the third, I insure myself;/ And the second fills me with loathing.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
60. Ghosts. They frighten! Don’t cross yourself!/ They moan! Midnight sounds!/ Again, Dead Man, do you follow me?/ Quiet yourself, my stomach!
60. Ghosts. They frighten! Don’t cross yourself!/ They moan! Midnight sounds!/ Again, Dead Man, do you follow me?/ Quiet yourself, my stomach!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
95. Sharp Trader. Speak not of “honesty”;/ All talk through their hats— / And so do you!/ Let the buyer beware.../ One must live,/ And, you are a cheat!
95. Sharp Trader. Speak not of “honesty”;/ All talk through their hats— / And so do you!/ Let the buyer beware.../ One must live,/ And, you are a cheat!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
81. Fat and Stylish. You smell like a fleshy mullein plant— / You bore me without end;/ You’re big enough for two women— / And I’m regretting that I know you.
81. Fat and Stylish. You smell like a fleshy mullein plant— / You bore me without end;/ You’re big enough for two women— / And I’m regretting that I know you.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
17. Epicure. The doctor— he restricts and restricts!/ In my diet I do not follow him./ After all Death is lean, not fat,/ And so cannot carry me away.
17. Epicure. The doctor— he restricts and restricts!/ In my diet I do not follow him./ After all Death is lean, not fat,/ And so cannot carry me away.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
20. The Petulant Dolphin. Said a dolphin, criticized,/ “Do you read music?—/ “Nor do I./ “As David said:/ “There’s your harp,/ “Play it yourself!”
20. The Petulant Dolphin. Said a dolphin, criticized,/ “Do you read music?—/ “Nor do I./ “As David said:/ “There’s your harp,/ “Play it yourself!”
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
79. Passée. “How old-fashioned is that lady!”/ Those who see me think or say;/ But, I have much more modesty/ Than the young girls of today.
79. Passée. “How old-fashioned is that lady!”/ Those who see me think or say;/ But, I have much more modesty/ Than the young girls of today.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
37. The Bohemian. He deceives, who says on seeing me,/ “Here was a prize-winning artist.”/ I was only a Bohemian,/ Without even claws to scratch myself.
37. The Bohemian. He deceives, who says on seeing me,/ “Here was a prize-winning artist.”/ I was only a Bohemian,/ Without even claws to scratch myself.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947