Here in the Autumn of my days My life is mellowed in a haze. Unpleasant sights are none to clea… Discordant sounds I hardly hear. Infirmities like buffers soft

With peace and rest And wisdom sage, Ripeness is best Of every age. With hands that fold

Aye, Montecelli, that’s the name. You may have heard of him perhaps. Yet though he never savoured fame, Of those impressionistic chaps, Monet and Manet and Renoir

My job is done; my rhymes are rank… My word-battalions marching verse… Here stanza-companies are none too… There print-platoons are weak, but… And as in marshalled order I revi…

Is it not strange? A year ago to—… With scarce a thought beyond the h… I did my decent job and earned my… Was averagely happy, I’ll be boun… Ay, in my little groove I was con…

Enthusiastic was the crowd That hailed him with delight; The wine was bright, the laughter… And glorious the night. But when at dawn he drove away

While I am emulating Keats My brother fabrics toilet seats, The which, they say, are works of… Aesthetic features of the mart; So exquisitely are they made

I do not write for love of pelf, Nor lust for phantom fame; I do not rhyme to please myself, Nor yet to win acclaim: No, strange to say it is my plan,

Little Annabelle to please, (Lacking grace, I grant), Grandpa down on hands and knees Plays the elephant. Annabelle shrieks with delight,

I wonder ‘oo and wot ’e was, That 'Un I got so slick. I couldn’t see ‘is face because The night was ’ideous thick. I just made out among the black

Of all the meals that glad my day My morning one’s the best; Purveyed me on a silver tray, Immaculately dressed. I rouse me when the dawn is bright…

You’ve heard of Violet de Vere, s… Whose sitting—base out—faired the… Well, she was haled before the Be… Which signifies araisin’ Cain, an… So there she stood before the Cou…

We was in a crump—'ole, 'im and me… Fightin’ wiv our bayonets was we; Fightin’ ‘ard as ’ell we was, Fightin’ fierce as fire because It was ‘im or me as must be downed…

Alas! I am only a rhymer, I don’t know the meaning of Art; But I learned in my little school… To love Eugene Field and Bret Ha… I hailed Hoosier Ryley with pleas…

When twenty—one I loved to dream, And was to loafing well inclined; Somehow I couldn’t get up steam To welcome work of any kind. While students burned the midnight…