#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
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 sleep in the sleep of ages, the… The gray moss drapes us like sages… And deeper we clutch through the g… On the flanks of the storm—gored r… We surge in a host to the sullen c…
“There’s something in your face,… There’s something quare that wasn’… “It’s just the Army life, mother,… That puts the stiffinin’ in yer sp… “There’s something in your eyes,…
She was a Philistine spick and sp… He was a bold Bohemian. She had the mode, and the last at… He had a cape and a brigand hat. She was so riant and chic and trim…
I’ve been sittin’ starin’, starin’… And tryin’ to convince meself it’s… (Look out there, lad! That sniper… ’E’ll be layin’ of you out the sam… Jim as lies there in the dug—out w…
With barbwire hooch they filled hi… Till he was drunker than all hell, And then they peddled him the bull About a claim they had to sell. A thousand bucks they made him pay…
She was so wonderful I wondered If wedding me she had not blundere… She was so pure, so high above me, I marvelled how she came to love m… Or did she? Well, in her own fash…
When from my fumbling hand the tir… And in the twilight weary droops m… While to my quiet heart a still vo… Calls me to join my kindred of the… Grant that I may, O Lord, ere re…
This crowded life of God’s good g… No man has relished more than I; I’ve been so goldarned busy living I’ve never had the time to die. So busy fishing, hunting, roving,
You make it in your mess—tin by th… You watch it cloud, then settle am… You lift it with your bay’nit, and… The very breath of it is ripe with… You’re awful cold and dirty, and a…
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,
Light up your pipe again, old chum… I’ve got to watch the bannock bake… You’d little think that we were so… Though where I don’t exactly know… The man—size mountains palisade us…
Striving is life, yet life is stri… I fight to live, yet live to fight… The vital urge is in my driving, Yet I must drive with all my migh… Each day a battle, and the fray
A gaunt and hoary slab of stone I found in desert place, And wondered why it lay alone In that abandoned place. Said I: ‘Maybe a Palace stood
From off my calendar today A leaf I tear; So swiftly passes smiling May Without a care. And now the gentleness of June