#English #XXCentury
This much I know: God does not wrong us here, Though oft His judgments seem sev… And reason falters 'neath the blow… Some day we’ll learn ’twas better…
I START the day with paper whi… And put it in my old machine, And wonder whether, as I write The night will find my copy clean. Will this day’s finished task be f…
We shall thank our God for graces That we’ve never known before; We shall look on manlier faces When our troubled days are o’er. We shall rise a better nation
IT isn’t the blue in the skies, Nor the song of the whispering tre… The light in a fair maiden’s eyes, My joy is far greater than these; You will pardon my arrogance pleas…
I LIKE the dream days best of al… The hollyhocks against the wall; The rambler roses blushing red, The blue skies bending overhead, With just enough of summer breeze
IT is well enough to cheer for th… It is fine to praise the brother w… But don’t keep your kind words alw… For the boy who really needs them… Give a cheer when men deserve it,…
There is too much of sighing, and… Of pitiful tales of despair. There is too much of wailing and g… And too much of railing at care. There is far too much glorificatio…
When father couldn’t wear them mot… She took the slack in fore and aft… They fitted rather loosely, but th… Were the horizontal pockets that t… They shone like patent leather jus…
IF no one ever went ahead, If we had seen no friend depart And mourned him for a while as dea… How great would be our fear to sta… If no one for us led the way,
No war is won by cannon fire alone… The soldier bears the grim and dre… He dies to serve the Flag that he… His duty is to gain the distant go… But if the toiler in his homeland…
In some respects the old days were… Before we got to wanting wealth an… Perhaps the world was happier then… But when it’s zero weather I am g… Old-fashioned winters I recall—th…
YOUR cheeks are pinker than the… Your eyes are bluer than the skies… Than you no fairer blossom grows, In you all earthly sweetness lies. Without you life were drear to me,
Once there was a boy who never Tore his clothes, or hardly ever, Never made his sister mad, Never whipped fer bein’ bad, Never scolded by his Ma,
Glad to be back home again, Where abide the friendly men; Glad to see the same old scenes And the little house that means All the joys the soul has treasure…
A little ship goes out to sea As soon as we have finished tea; Off yonder where the big moon glow… This tiny little vessel goes, But never grown-up eyes have seen
