What are we fighting for, We fellows who go to war? fighting for Freedom’s sake! (You give me the belly—ache.) Freedom to starve or slave!

What do they matter, our headlong… Think ye our glory and gain will p… By the cheers of our Victory will… If by the Victory all we mean is… Is the pomp and power of a glitt’r…

Said I: “See yon vast heaven shin… What earthly sight diviner? Before such radiant Design Why doubt Designer?” Said he: “Design is just a though…

Lord, I’m grey, my face is run, But by old Harry, I’ve had my fun… And all about, I seem to see Lads and lassies that look like me… Ice—blue eyes on every hand,

The sky is like an envelope, One of those blue official things; And, sealing it, to mock our hope, The moon, a silver wafer, clings. What shall we find when death give…

Because back home in Tennessee I was a champeen shot, They made a sniper outa me An’ ninety krouts I got: I wish to Christ I’d not!

She lay like a saint on her copper… Like an angel asleep she lay, In the stare of the ghoulish folks… Past the Dead and sneak away. Then came old Jules of the sightl…

The Greatest Writer of to—day (With Maupassant I almost set him… Said to me in a weary way, The last occasion that I met him: “Old chap, this world is more and…

A mattock high he swung; I watched him at his toil; With never gulp of lung He gashed the ruddy soil. Thought I, I’d give my wealth

He hurried away, young heart of jo… And I watched him go, my beautifu… For my hair is grey, and his was g… And I’d loved him so, and I’m old… Ah yes, he was proud and swift and…

Let poets piece prismatic words, Give me the jewelled joy of birds! What ecstasy moves them to sing? Is it the lyric glee of Spring, The dewy rapture of the rose?

Mumsie and Dad are raven dark And I am lily blonde. ‘Tis strange,’ I once heard nurse… ‘You do not correspond.’ And yet they claim me as their own…

When you come home I’ll not be ro… To welcome you. They’ll take you to a grassy mound So neat and new; Where I’ll be sleeping—O so sound…

I’ve wearied of so many things Adored in youthful days; Music no more my spirit wings, E’en when Master play. For stage and screen I have no he…

You ask me what I call Success — It is, I wonder, Happiness? It is not wealth, it is not fame, Nor rank, nor power nor honoured n… It is not triumph in the Arts —