I met an ancient man who mushed With Peary to the Pole. Said I, “In all that land so hush… What most inspired your soul?” He looked at me with bleary eye,

Should you preserve white mice in… Don’t use imported ones from Chin… For though they cost you less in m… You’ll find the Japanese ones fin… But if Chinese, stuff them with s…

In the dark and damp of the alley… Lay the Christmas tree that hadn’… By a shopman dourly thrown outside… With the ruck and rubble of Chris… Trodden deep in the muck and mire,

It isn’t the foe that we fear; It isn’t the bullets that whine; It isn’t the business career Of a shell, or the bust of a mine; It isn’t the snipers who seek

Navels Men have navels more or less; Some are neat, some not Being fat I must confess Mine is far from hot.

I’ve got a little job on 'and, the… At seven by the Captain’s watch I… I wants to 'ave it nice and neat,… And I 'opes the God of soldier me… Because, you see, it’s somethin’…

Before the florid portico I watched the gamblers come and go… While by me on a bench there sat A female in a faded hat; A shabby, shrinking, crumpled crea…

I draw sweet air Deeply and long, As pure as prayer, As sweet as song. Where lilies glow

An angel was tired of heaven, as h… His halo was tilted sideways, and… So the Master stooped in His pity… For the space of a moon, to the ea… He doffed his celestial garments,…

I count each day a little life, With birth and death complete; I cloister it from care and strife And keep it sane and sweet. With eager eyes I greet the morn,

My stretcher is one scarlet stain, And as I tries to scrape it clean… I tell you wot—I’m sick with pain For all I’ve 'eard, for all I’ve… Around me is the 'ellish night,

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,

There’s a drip of honeysuckle in t… There’s old Martin jogging homewa… There are cherry petals falling, a… And a score of larks (God bless '… For you see I am not really there…

Once, when a boy, I killed a cat. I guess it’s just because of that A cat evokes my tenderness, And takes so kindly my caress. For with a rich, resonant purr

I wish that I could understand The moving marvel of my Hand; I watch my fingers turn and twist, The supple bending of my wrist, The dainty touch of finger—tip,