To visit the Escurial We took a motor bus, And there a guide mercurial Took charge of us. He showed us through room after ro…
I have done with love and lust, I reck not for gold or fame; I await familiar dust These frail fingers to reclaim: Not for me the tiger flame.
I don’t think men of eighty odd Should let a surgeon operate; Better to pray for peace with God… And reconcile oneself to Fate: At four—score years we really shou…
Mud is Beauty in the making, Mud is melody awaking; Laughter, leafy whisperings, Butterflies with rainbow wings; Baby babble, lover’s sighs,
What are we fighting for, We fellows who go to war? fighting for Freedom’s sake! (You give me the belly—ache.) Freedom to starve or slave!
'Nay; I don’t need a hearing aid’ I told Mama—in—law; 'For if I had I’d be afraid Of your eternal jaw; Although at me you often shout,
They say that rhyme and rhythm are Outmoded now. I do not know, for I am far From high of brow. But if the twain you take away,
Old Codger Of garden truck he made his fare, As his bright eyes bore witness; Health was his habit and his care, His hobby human fitness.
Smith, great writer of stories, dr… Fused in his brain-pan, else a bla… Gave him the magical genius touch;… Flat in your face a soul-thought—… Twiddle your heart-strings in his…
My daughter Susie, aged two, Apes me in every way, For as my household chores I do With brooms she loves to play. A scrubbing brush to her is dear;
I think I’ll buy a little field, Though scant am I of pelf, And hold the hope that it may yiel… A living for myself; For I have toiled ten thousand da…
There was Claw—fingered Kitty and… When unto them in the Long, Long… Bearing his prize of a black fox p… His cheeks were blanched as the fl… Deep in their dark, sin—calcined p…
I look into the aching womb of nig… I look across the mist that masks… The moon is tired and gives but li… The stars have gone to bed. The earth is sick and seems to bre…
Clorinda met me on the way As I came from the train; Her face was anything but gay, In fact, suggested pain. “Oh hubby, hubby dear!” she cried,
When looking back I dimly see The trails my feet have trod, Some hand divine, it seems to me, Has pulled the strings with God; Some angel form has lifeward leane…