#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Tis hard to hang a husky lad When larks are in the sky; It hurts when daffydills are glad To wring a neck awry, When joy o’ Spring is in the sap
And is it not a gesture grand To drink oneself to death? Oh sure 'tis I can understand, Being of sober breath. And so I do not sing success,
Another day of toil and strife, Another page so white, Within that fateful Log of Life That I and all must write; Another page without a stain
“If you repent,” the Parson said,… Your sins will be forgiven. Aye, even on your dying bed You’re not too late for heaven." That’s just my cup of tea, I thou…
I call myself a Tranquilist; With deep detachment I exist, From friction free; While others court the gilded thro… And worship Women, Wine and Song…
I bought a cuckoo clock And glad was I To hear its tick and tock, Its dulcet cry. But Jones, whose wife is young
When I was cub reporter I Would interview the Great, And sometimes they would make repl… And sometimes hesitate; But often they would sharply say,
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…
So now I take a bitter road Whereon no bourne I see, And wearily I lift the load That once I bore with glee. For me no more by sea or shore
It’s mighty quiet in the house Since Mary Ellen quit me cold; I’ve swept the hearth and fed the… That’s getting fat and overbold. I’ve bought a pig’s foot for the p…
Familiarity some claim Can breed contempt, So from it let it be your aim To be exempt. Let no one exercise his brawn
I haled me a woman from the street… Shameless, but, oh, so fair! I bade her sit in the model’s seat And I painted her sitting there. I hid all trace of her heart uncle…
“How good God is to me,” he said; “For have I not a mansion tall, With trees and lawns of velvet tre… And happy helpers at my call? With beauty is my life abrim,
While I make rhymes my brother Jo… Makes shiny shoes which dames try… And finding to their fit and stanc… They buy and wear with elegance; But mine is quite another tale,—
I ran a nail into my hand, The wound was hard to heal; So bitter was the pain to stand I thought how it would feel, To have spikes thrust through hand…