There was a woman, and she was wis… She was old, so old, yet her years… And she knew by heart, from finish… There is no hope for such as I on… Unloved I live, unloved I die, un…

I think the things I own and love Acquire a sense of me, That gives them value far above The worth that others see. My chattels are of me a part:

I had a dream, a dream of dread: I thought that horror held the hou… A burglar bent above my bed, He moved as quiet as a mouse. With hairy hand and naked knife

Lord, let me live, that more and m… Your wonder world I may adore; With every dawn to grow and grow Alive to graciousness aglow; And every eve in beauty see

While for me gapes the greedy grav… It don’t make sense That I should have a crazy crave To paint our fence. Yet that is what I aim to do,

The Greatest Writer of to—day (With Maupassant I almost set him… Said to me in a weary way, The last occasion that I met him: “Old chap, this world is more and…

I am a stout materialist; With abstract terms I can’t agree… And so I’ve made a little list Of words that don’t make sense to… To fool my reason I refuse,

I bought my little grandchild Ann A bright balloon, And I was such a happy man To hear her croon. She laughed and babbled with delig…

I looked down on a daisied lawn To where a host of tiny eyes Of snow and gold from velvet shone And made me think of starry skies. I looked up to the vasty night

My mother she had children five an… While I, least worthy to survive,… She looks at me, I must confess,… My mother is three—score and ten,… You don’t know how it hurts me whe…

Said Seeker of the skies to me: “Behold yon starry host ashine! When Heaven’s harmony you see How can you doubt control divine, Law, order and design?”

Stupidity, woe’s anodyne, Be kind and comfort me in mine; Smooth out the furrows of my brow, Make me as carefree as a cow, Content to sleep and eat and drink

Cinderella in the street In a ragged gown, Sloven slippers on her feet, Shames our tidy town; Harsh her locks of ashen grey,

Said darling daughter unto me: “oh Dad, how funny it would be If you had gone to Mexico A score or so of years ago. Had not some whimsey changed your…

An olive fire’s a lovely thing; Somehow it makes me think of Spri… As in my grate it over—spills With dancing flames like daffodils… They flirt and frolic, twist and t…