Since I am sick of Wheels That jar my day, Unto the hush that heals I steal away. Unto the core of Peace

Don’t jeer because we celebrate Armistice Day, Though thirty years of sorry fate Have passed away. Though still we gaurd the Sacred…

I never saw a face so bright With brilliant blood and joy, As was the grinning mug last night Of Dick, our local boy, When with a clumsy, lucky clout

As I go forth from fair to mart With racket ringing, Who would divine that in my heart Mad larks are singing. As I sweet sympathy express,

The sheep are in the silver wood, The cows are in the broom; The goats are in the wild mountain And won’t be home by noon. My mother sang that olden tune

Let us have birthdays every day, (I had the thought while I was sh… Because a birthday should be gay, And full of grace and good behavin… We can’t have cakes and candles br…

When young I was a Socialist Despite my tender years; No blessed chance I ever missed To slam the profiteers. Yet though a fanatic I was,

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…

They’re hanging Bill at eight o’… And millions will applaud. He killed, and so they have to kil… Such is the will of God. His brother Tom is on my bed

The man above was a murderer, the… And I lay there in the bunk betwe… A weary armful of skin and bone, w… My feet were froze, and the lifele… The little flesh that clung to my…

Lost Kitten Two men I saw reel from a bar And stumble down the street; Coarse and uncouth as workmen are, They walked with wobbly feet.

The General now lives in town; He’s eighty odd, they say; You’ll see him strolling up and do… The Prada any day. He goes to every football game,

I bought a young and lovely bride, Paying her father gold; Lamblike she rested by my side, As cold as ice is cold. No love in her could I awake,

Tell me, Tramp, where I may go To be free from human woe; Say where I may hope to find Ease of heart and peace of mind; Is thee not some isle you know

A beggar in the street I saw, Who held a hand like withered claw… As cold as clay; But as I had no silver groat To give, I buttoned up my coat