I draw sweet air Deeply and long, As pure as prayer, As sweet as song. Where lilies glow
My rhymes are rough, and often in… I’ve drifted, silver—sailed, on se… Hearing afar the bells of Elfland… Seeing the groves of Arcadie agle… I was the thrall of Beauty that r…
Because I’ve come to eighty odd, I must prepare to meet you, God. What should I do? I cannot pray, I have no pious words to say; And though the Bible I might read…
Said she: 'Although my husband Ji… Is with his home content, I never should have married him, We are so different. Oh yes, I know he loves me well,
My lead dog Mike was like a bear; I reckon he was grizzly bred, For when he reared up in the air Ho over—topped me by a head. He’d cuff me with his hefty paws,
Little Annabelle to please, (Lacking grace, I grant), Grandpa down on hands and knees Plays the elephant. Annabelle shrieks with delight,
Oh Julie Claire was very fair, Yet generous as well, And many a lad of metal had A saucy tale to tell Of sultry squeeze beneath the tree…
One of the Down and Out—that’s me… Stare and shrink—say! you wouldn’t… Look at my face, it’s crimped and… Don’t seem the sort of man, do I,… Slouching along in smelly rags, a…
Oh ye whose hearts are resonant, a… Hear ye the story of a boy, a peas… A lad uncouth and warped with toil… Could feel within his soul upleap… Could stand upright, and scorn and…
Said Jock McBrown to Tam McSmit… “A little bet I’m game to take on… That I can scotch this Shakespear… And prove Will just a stoodge for… Said Tam McSmith to Jock McBrow…
The meal was o’er, the lamp was li… The family sat in its glow; The Mother never ceased to knit, The Daughter never slacked to sew… The Father read his evening news,
To have a business of my own With toil and tears, I wore my fingers to the bone For weary years. With stoic heart, for sordid gold
'A shilling’s worth of quinine, pl… The customer demanded. The druggist went down on his knee… And from a cupboard handed The waiting man a tiny flask:
At dusk I saw a craintive mouse That sneaked and stole around the… At first I took it for a ghost, For it was snowy white —almost. I’ve seen them in captivity,
A very humble pen I ply Beneath a cottage thatch; And in the sunny hours I try To till my cabbage patch; And in the gloaming glad am I