I made a picture; all my heart I put in it, and all I knew Of canvas—cunning and of Art, Of tenderness and passion true. A worshipped Master came to see;

Lord, let me live, that more and m… Your wonder world I may adore; With every dawn to grow and grow Alive to graciousness aglow; And every eve in beauty see

Why am I full of joy although It drizzles on the links? Why am I buying Veuve Cliquot, And setting up the drinks? Why stand I like a prince amid

They say that rhyme and rhythm are Outmoded now. I do not know, for I am far From high of brow. But if the twain you take away,

Out of the night a crash, A roar, a rampart of light; A flame that leaped like a lash, Searing forever my sight; Out of the night a flash,

I guess folks think I’m mighty du… Since Jack and Jim and Joe Have hit the trail to Kingdom Com… And left me here below: Since Death, the bastard, bowled…

‘Why keep a cow when I can buy,’ Said he, ‘the milk I need,’ I wanted to spit in his eye Of selfishness and greed; But did not, for the reason he

To visit the Escurial We took a motor bus, And there a guide mercurial Took charge of us. He showed us through room after ro…

In youth when oft my muse was dumb… My fancy nighly dead, To make my inspiration come I stood upon my head; And thus I let the blood down flo…

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…

Said President MacConnachie to T… “We ought to have a piper for our… Yon squakin’ saxophone gives me th… I’m sick of jazz, I want to hear… “Alas! it’s true,” said Tam MacC…

It’s not for laws I’ve broken That bitter tears I’ve wept, But solemn vows I’ve spoken And promises unkept; It’s not for sins committed

So easy 'tis to make a rhyme, That did the world but know it, Your coachman might Parnassus cli… Your butler be a poet. Then, oh, how charming it would be

As nothingness draws near How I can see Inexorably clear My vanity. My sum of worthiness

The world is sadly sick, they say, And plagued by woe and pain. But look! How looms my garden gay… With blooms in golden reign! With lyric music in the air,