#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Although the Preacher be a bore, The Atheist is even more. I ain’t religious worth a damn; My views are reckoned to be broad; And yet I shut up like a clam
As I sat by my baby’s bed That’s open to the sky, There fluttered round and round my… A radiant butterfly. And as I wept —of hearts that ach…
Gold! We leapt from our benches.… Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, f… Fearless, unfound, unfitted, far f… Heard we the clarion summons, foll… Men from the sands of the Sunland…
Obit 23rd April 1616 Is it not strange that on this com… Two titans of their age, aye of al… Together should renounce this mort… And rise like gods, unsullied and…
I wonder if successful men Are always happy? And do they sing with gusto when Springtime is sappy? Although I am of snow—white hair
Time, the Jester, jeers at you; Your life’s a fleeting breath; Your birthday’s flimsy I.O.U. To that old devil, Death. And though to glory you attain,
When you’re lost in the Wild, and… And Death looks you bang in the e… And you’re sore as a boil, it’s ac… To cock your revolver and . . . di… But the Code of a Man says: “Fig…
The harridan who holds the inn At which I toss a pot, Is old and uglier than sin,— I’m glad she knows me not. Indeed, for me it’s hard to think,
Mud is Beauty in the making, Mud is melody awaking; Laughter, leafy whisperings, Butterflies with rainbow wings; Baby babble, lover’s sighs,
Alas! I see that thrushes three Are ravishing my old fig tree, In whose green shade I smoked my… And waited for the fruit to ripe; From green to purple softly swell
My neighbour has a field of wheat And I a rood of vine; And he will give me bread to eat, And I will give him wine. And so we are a jolly pair,
“You’re bloody right —I was a Red… The Man from Cook’s morosely said… And if our chaps had won the War Today I’d be the Governor Of all Madrid, and rule with prid…
Sitting in the dentist’s chair, Wishing that I wasn’t there, To forget and pass the time I have made this bit of rhyme. I had a rendez—vous at ten;
If you had a friend strong, simple… Who knew your faults and who under… Who believed in the very best of y… And who cared for you as a father… Who would stick by you to the very…
My poem may be yours indeed In melody and tone, If in its rhythm you can read A music of your own; If in its pale woof you can weave