#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Because I was a wonton wild And welcomed many a lover, Who is the father of my child I wish I could discover. For though I know it is not right
You’ve heard of Violet de Vere, s… Whose sitting—base out—faired the… Well, she was haled before the Be… Which signifies araisin’ Cain, an… So there she stood before the Cou…
Worms finer for fishing you couldn… I delved them dismayed from the ve… The rich loam upturning I gathere… big, fat, gleamy earthworms, all r… Thinks I, without waiting, my hoo…
Mad Maria in the Square Sits upon a wicker chair. When the keeper asks the price Mad Maria counts her lice. No pesito can she pay,
Italian people peaceful are,— Let it be to their credit. They mostly fail to win a war, —Oh they themselves have said it. “Allergic we to lethal guns
Here is my Garret up five flights… Here’s where I deal in dreams and… Here is the wonder—shop of all my… My sounding sonnets and my red rom… Here’s where I challenge Fate and…
Between the mountain and the sea I’ve made a happy landing; And here a peace has come to me That passeth understanding; A shining faith and purity
Aye, Montecelli, that’s the name. You may have heard of him perhaps. Yet though he never savoured fame, Of those impressionistic chaps, Monet and Manet and Renoir
We’d left the sea—gulls long behin… And we were almost in mid—ocean; The sky was soft and blue and kind… The boat had scarcely any motion; Except that songfully it sped,
All day long when the shells sail… I stand at the sandbags and take m… But at night, at night I’m a reck… And over the parapet gleams Roman… Romance! Romance! How I’ve dream…
The chapel looms against the sky, Above the vine—clad shelves, And as the peasants pass it by They cross themselves. But I alone, I grieve to state,
You’ve heard of Belching Billy, l… As punk a chunk of Yukon scum as… A satellite of Soapy Smith, a cap… A slimy tribute—taker from the La… But say, you never heard of how he…
A bunch of the boys were whooping… In the Malamute saloon; The kid that handles the music—box Was hitting a jag—time tune; Back of the bar, in a solo game,
I have a house I’ve lived in long… I can’t recall my going in. 'Twere better bartered for a song Ere ruin, rot and rust begin. When it was fresh and fine and fai…
A pote is sure a goofy guy; He ain’t got guts like you or I To tell the score; He ain’t goy gumption 'nuff to kno… The game of life’s to get the doug…