Sweet maiden, why disguise The beauty of your eyes With glasses black? Although I’m well aware That you are more than fair,

When they shall close my careless eyes And look their last upon my face, I fear that some will say: “her lies A man of deep disgrace; His thoughts were bare, his words were b…

The Sergeant of a Highland Reg— —Iment was drilling of his men; With temper notably on edge He blest them every now and then. A sweet old lady standing by,

To me at night the stars are vocal. They say: 'Your planet’s oh so local! A speck of dust in heaven’s ceiling; Your faith divine a foolish feeling. What odds if you are chaos hurled,

For supper we had curried tripe. I washed the dishes, wound the clock; Then for awhile I smoked my pipe — Puff! Puff! We had no word of talk. The Misses sewed —a sober pair;

Mud is Beauty in the making, Mud is melody awaking; Laughter, leafy whisperings, Butterflies with rainbow wings; Baby babble, lover’s sighs,

I will not fight: though proud of pith I hold no one worth striving with; And should resentment burn my breast I deem that silence serves me best: So having not a word to say,

To rest my fagged brain now and then, When wearied of my proper labors, I lay aside my lagging pen And get to thinking on my neighbors; For, oh, around my garret den

“You’re bloody right —I was a Red,” The Man from Cook’s morosely said. And if our chaps had won the War Today I’d be the Governor Of all Madrid, and rule with pride,

Bill has left his house of clay, Slammed the door and gone away: How he laughed but yesterday! I had two new jokes to tell, Salty, but he loved them well:

The English and the French were met Upon the field of future battle; The foes were formidably set And waiting for the guns to rattle; When from the serried ranks of France

In the moonless, misty night, with my li… I am sitting by the camp—fire’s fading c… Oh, the dew is falling chill on the dim,… And the breakers in the bay are moaning… The toilful hours are sped, the boys are…

Out of the wood my White Knight came: His eyes were bright with a bitter flame… As I clung to his stirrup leather; For I was only a dreaming lad, Yet oh, what a wonderful faith I had!

In youth I longed to paint The loveliness I saw; And yet by dire constraint I had to study Law. But now all that is past,

If on water and sweet bread Seven years I’ll add to life, For me will no blood be shed, No lamb know the evil knife; Excellently will I dine