What man has not betrayed Some sacred trust? If haply you are made Of honest dust, Vaunt not of glory due,
Said Lenin’s ghost to Stalin’s gh… “Mate with me in the Tomb; Then day by day the rancid host May gaze upon our doom. A crystal casket we will share;
I’ve got a little job on 'and, the… At seven by the Captain’s watch I… I wants to 'ave it nice and neat,… And I 'opes the God of soldier me… Because, you see, it’s somethin’…
I was a seed that fell In silver dew; And nobody could tell, For no one knew; No one could tell my fate,
No, Bill, I’m not a—spooning out… (The cove be’ind the sandbags ain’… And though I strafes ‘em good and… I guess they’re mostly decent, jus… I guess they loves their 'omes and…
When the long, long day is over, a… I hope that it won’t be hell—fire,… And I hope that it won’t be heave… All I want is just quiet, just to… Look at my face, toil—furrowed; lo…
So easy 'tis to make a rhyme, That did the world but know it, Your coachman might Parnassus cli… Your butler be a poet. Then, oh, how charming it would be
My Pa and Ma their honeymoon Passed in an Andulasian June, And though produced in Drury Lane… I must have been conceived in Spa… Now having lapsed from fair estate…
You say I am the slave of Fate Bound by unalterable laws. I harken, but your words I hate, Your damnable Effect and Cause. If there’s no hope for happy Chan…
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,
God gave you guts: don’t let Him… Brace up, be worthy of His giving… The road’s a rut, the sky’s a frow… I know you’re plumb fed up with li… Fate birches you, and wry the rod…
It isn’t the foe that we fear; It isn’t the bullets that whine; It isn’t the business career Of a shell, or the bust of a mine; It isn’t the snipers who seek
I used to sing, when I was young, The joy of idleness; But now I’m grey I hold my tongue… For frankly I confess If I had not some job to do
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…
When you come home I’ll not be ro… To welcome you. They’ll take you to a grassy mound So neat and new; Where I’ll be sleeping—O so sound…