#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
I to a crumpled cabin came upon a hillside high, And with me was a withered dame As weariful as I. “It used to be our home,” she said…
I sought Him on the purple seas, I sought Him on the peaks aflame; Amid the gloom of giant trees And canyons lone I called His nam… The wasted ways of earth I trod:
To—day within a grog—shop near I saw a newly captured linnet, Who beat against his cage in fear, And fell exhausted every minute; And when I asked the fellow there
Be honest, kindly, simple, true; Seek good in all, scorn but preten… Whatever sorrow come to you, Believe in Life’s Beneficence! The World’s all right; serene I s…
In a strange town in a far land They met amid a throng; They stared, they could not unders… How life was sudden song. As brown eyes looked in eyes of gr…
They asked the Bard of Ayr to din… The banquet hall was fit and fine, With gracing it a Lord; The poet came; his face was grim To find the place reserved for him
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
I gave an eye to save from night A babe born blind; And now with eager semi—sight Vast joy I find To think a child can share with me
Lord, I’m grey, my face is run, But by old Harry, I’ve had my fun… And all about, I seem to see Lads and lassies that look like me… Ice—blue eyes on every hand,
To Dawson Town came Percy Brown… A pane of glass was in his eye, an… Upon the shoulder of his coat a le… To rest his deadly rifle when it w… The which it must have often been,…
It was the steamer Alice May that… And touched in every river camp fr… It was her builder, owner, pilot,… Who took her through the angry ice… Who patched her cracks with gunny…
Oh you who are shy of the popular… (Though most of us seek to survive… Just think of the goldfish who wan… Because she could never be private… There are pebbles and reeds for aq…
On this festive first of May, Wending wistfully my way Three sad sights I saw today. The first was such a lovely lad He lit with grace the sordid stree…
How grand the human race would be If every man would wear a kilt, A flirt of Tartan finery, Instead of trousers, custom built! Nay, do not think I speak to joke…
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,