(France, August first, 1914) Far and near, high and clear, Hark to the call of War! Over the gorse and the golden dell… Ringing and swinging of clamorous…
Said the Door: “She came in With no shadow of sin; Turned the key in the lock, Slipped out of her frock, The robe she liked best
His portrait hung upon the wall. Oh how at us he used to stare. Each Sunday when I made my call!… And when one day it wasn’t there, Quite quick I seemed to understan…
Father drank himself to death,— Quite enjoyed it. Urged to draw a sober breath He’d avoid it. ‘Save your sympathy,’ said Dad;
“Where is your little boy to—day?” I asked her at the gate. “I used to see him at his play, And often I would wait: He was so beautiful, so bright,
'Twas in a pub in Battersea They call the “Rose and Crown,” Quite suddenly, it seemed to me, The Lord was looking down; The Lord was looking from above,
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
Her little head just topped the wi… She even mounted on a stool, maybe… She pressed against the pane, as c… And watched us playing, oh so wist… And then I missed her for a month…
(He speaks.) Walking, walking, oh, the joy of w… Swinging down the tawny lanes with… Striding up the green hills, throu… Swishing through the woodlands whe…
We sleep in the sleep of ages, the… The gray moss drapes us like sages… And deeper we clutch through the g… On the flanks of the storm—gored r… We surge in a host to the sullen c…
Old Man Death’s a lousy heel who… Let Graveyard yawn and doom down… But when the sky with rapture ring… Then Old Man Death grins evilly,… Jack Duval was my chosen pal in t…
Bed and bread are all I need In my happy day; Love of Nature is my creed, Unto her I pray; Sun and sky my spirit feed
One said: Thy life is thine to ma… To flicker feebly, or to soar, a s… It lies with thee—the choice is th… To hit the ties or drive thy auto—… I answered Her: The choice is min…
Be honest, kindly, simple, true; Seek good in all, scorn but preten… Whatever sorrow come to you, Believe in Life’s Beneficence! The World’s all right; serene I s…
Some poets sing of scenery; Some to fair maids make sonnets sw… A fig for love and greenery, Be mine a song of things to eat. Let brother bards divinely dream,