The leaves are sick and jaundiced,… Drift down the air; December’s sky is sodden grey, Dark with despair; A bleary dawn will light anon

I don’t know how the fishes feel,… That a gay young flapper of a fema… Yet —that’s exactly what she did a… That’ what evr you do you can’t pu… Now that young tom—cod was a dread…

I saw the Greatest Man on Earth, Aye, saw him with my proper eyes. A loin—cloth spanned his proper gi… But he was naked otherwise, Excepting for his grey sombrero;

God’s truth! these be the bitter t… In vain I sing my sheaf of rhymes… And hold my battered hat for dimes… And then a copper collars me, Barking: “It’s begging that you b…

Tramp, tramp, the grim road, the r… (I’ve 'ammered out this ditty with… Tramp, tramp, the dim road—we didn… And bellies that was ’oller was th… Tramp, tramp, the bad road, the bi…

The same old sprint in the morning… Chained all day to the same old de… Posting the same old greasy books,… Oh, how will I manage to stick it… We’ve bidden good—bye to life in a…

(France, August first, 1914) Far and near, high and clear, Hark to the call of War! Over the gorse and the golden dell… Ringing and swinging of clamorous…

I know a garden where the lilies g… And one who lingers in the sunshin… She is than white—stoled lily far… And oh, her eyes are heaven—lit wi… I know a garret, cold and dark and…

“Miss Rosemary,” I dourly said, “Our balance verges on the red, We must cut down our overhead. One of the staff will have to go. There’s Mister Jones, he’s mighty…

Two blind men met. Said one: “Thi… Has been a blackout from my birth. Through darkness I have groped my… Forlorn, unknowing night from day. But you —though War destroyed you…

Familiarity some claim Can breed contempt, So from it let it be your aim To be exempt. Let no one exercise his brawn

I draw sweet air Deeply and long, As pure as prayer, As sweet as song. Where lilies glow

Deeming that I were better dead, “How shall I kill myself?” I said… Thus mooning by the river Seine I sought extinction without pain, When on a bridge I saw a flash

The Shorter Catechism I burned my fingers on the stove And wept with bitterness; But poor old Auntie Maggie strove To comfort my distress.

He hurried away, young heart of jo… And I watched him go, my beautifu… For my hair is grey, and his was g… And I’d loved him so, and I’m old… Ah yes, he was proud and swift and…